


Icarus

by Elfpen



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: AU, F/M, Gen, Infinity Gauntlet, Infinity Gems, stoneless vision au, vision learns to be human
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-24
Updated: 2015-06-13
Packaged: 2018-04-01 01:14:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 22,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4000363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elfpen/pseuds/Elfpen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thanos takes the Mind Stone for himself, leaving Vision powerless and near death. How will Vision cope with life as a human, and how will the team take back the stone without Vision's help? Spoilers for AoU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"Vision!" Wanda's frantic scream made Tony turn and look. A few hundred yards away, Thanos stood atop a skyscraper wrestling with the Vision. He was winning. Tony looked away for a few seconds to deal with a chitauri, and when he turned around, Thanos had a massive, gauntleted hand wrapped around Vision's throat.

"Shit!" he punched another alien in the throat and blasted another. "Friday, get me over there!"

" _Sir, this suit was not designed to withstand blows from the infinity-"_

"I don't care, get me  _over there!"_

As he sped through the air toward his synthesoid friend, Thanos grabbed a massive hand at Vision's skull, found purchase on something, and tore. A soundless blast emanated from the Vision, and the shockwave was enough to knock Tony out of the sky and into a wall of windows.

Thanos held the mind stone in his hand just long enough to put it into his gauntlet, draw back his fist, and punch the Vision as hard as he could.

"No!" Wanda screamed again, red magic blasting through the air like ink through water, dissolving chitauri and New York alike.

His prize won, Thanos withdrew from the scene, calling his armies back from the earth. The humans' puny planet was a worthless prize, and he had eyes set on more valuable things.

The Vision fell to earth like a burning rag doll. His cape dissolved, his clothes disappeared, and the glowing light that had been his source of life for so long was replaced with a stream of synthetic blood that had never before seen the light of day. He was unconscious or dead, no one could tell.

"Thor!" Tony shouted, trying to dislodge a leg from the rubble his crash had created, "Thor, get him!" He yelled inarticulately again.

The god didn't need Tony's prompting. He flew up to intercept the Vision's descent halfway to the ground and caught him in his arms.

" _Hostiles are in retreat,"_ Clint's voice appeared over the radio, followed by several hisses as he fired off a round of arrows.  _"Orders, Captain?"_

" _Where is the Vision?"_ Steve's voice replied.

"Thor's got a hold of him – it doesn't look good, Cap," Tony piped in.

" _Stark I want you to get him back to the tower. Thor, follow that pink bastard to whatever hole he's running to and give him hell until we can regroup. Romanoff and I will run perimeter and cut off any stragglers. Everyone else: take down as many as you can."_

The sky exploded with arrows and red magic at Steve's orders, and the Hulk careened into view, ripping apart hoards with his hands and teeth.

Tony finally ripped his suit from the concrete and steel and blasted his way out of the tower, headed for Thor.

"You heard the Cap, Thunderhead, hand him here," Tony met Thor on the ground and held out his arms. The god handed the limp, bleeding Vision to Tony and took up his hammer.

"He's unconscious but I believe he's still alive. He's lost a lot of blood."

"I can see that," Tony said uneasily, rearranging the red-skinned man in his arms. "Keep me posted, we'll cover you from the ground."

"Best of luck, Stark," Thor said, twirling his hammer.

"Don't die without me," Iron Man said back, which made Thor smile before he took off into the sky.

"Alright, Tomato Face, don't die on me now, I put a lot of work into you," Tony had to hover carefully without the use of his flight stabilizers, but he eventually made it up to Avengers Tower in front of the backdrop of alien retreat. Ignoring the chaos, he pulled his mask up and rushed for their medical suite.

"Friday get the med bay prepped – I'm not having your older brother bleed out on the table."

" _Scanning vitals now, sir – it doesn't look good."_

"Don't tell me that Friday, just fix it." Tony laid Vision out on the medical table and stepped out of his suit. "Emergency medical protocols, code red," he said, arranging Vision's body beneath the mini-cradle.

" _Sir we don't have a sample of the Vision's DNA on file. I cannot compute a compatible tissue matrix without it."_

"Well then take a sample now! He's bleeding it out all over the lab, just scrape some up!"

" _It will take hours to complete the necessary calculations, hours that I'm afraid he does not have."_

"Well then  _tell me what to do,_ Friday," Tony yelled, "I'm not a doctor, I'm not even a soldier,  _what do I do?_ "

" _Initial analysis does not detect any fractures to his skull - My medical protocol programs suggest staunching the bloodflow with steady pressure for at least fifteen minutes. Do not move his head."_

"Okay, okay okay okay," Tony rushed around the room until he found a clean white towel and pressed it into the Vision's forehead with both hands. "Get Helen Cho online – call it in as an emergency."

The speakerphone rang for several painful seconds until a very sleepy, disoriented Dr. Cho squinted into view on Tony's television screen.

"Mr. Stark…?" She asked, not sure what she was looking at. "It's 3:00am in Seoul, in case you didn't know," She grumbled.

"Yeah yeah, I know, I'm sorry," He said, panicky, "But your baby's been hit and I don't' know what the hell I'm doing. You got to help me out."

It was then that Dr. Cho finally saw who Tony was standing over, and the extent of the blood on the table. She was suddenly alert, and came to the computer and adjusted it so she could see better.

"How much blood has he lost?"

" _Approximately 1.37 litres and rising,"_ Friday reported. Helen sighed.

"Keep the pressure on his head, Tony. Signs of shock?"

" _He is unconscious. Respiratory and heart rate are rising, blood pressure is falling."_

"Prop up his feet, get them above his chest."

"Mmkay," Tony rushed around and stuck a box beneath the Vision's bare feet before running back around to resume attention to his head.

"Friday, vitals." Helen said even as she dialed a number on her phone and snapped quick Korean into the receiver.

" _Heart rate is 124 bpm, respitory rate is 32 bpm, blood pressure measures at 87/54, blood sugar dangerously low."_

"Blood sugar? This guy has blood sugar?" Tony burst.

"Of course he does, he's a human being-" Dr. Cho said.

"He doesn't need to  _eat!_ " Tony yelled back.

" _Sir, the absence of the mind stone seems to have stripped the Vision of his self-sufficiency, and his vitals are falling quickly. I recommend an immediate intravenous injection to prevent catastrophic organ failure."_

"What? I can't do that!" Tony said, dripping sweat. "I just told you  _I'm not a doctor!_ And how the hell am I supposed to stick a needle through vibranium skin, anyway?"

"The vibranium should not prevent an IV, Tony," Dr. Cho piped up, "the cell fusion is strong, but thin, it should not prevent all of the proper medical procedures. Tony, you need to do as Friday says, I'll walk you through it."

Tony wiped the sweat off his forehead. "Helen, did you  _not hear what I just said_?"

"Tony, you'll be fine, but we need to work quickly-"

"And what if I skewer him, huh? What if I hit something that kills-"

"You'll be  _fine,"_

"I don't even know where the IV bags are in this dump," He looked around.

"Tony  _listen to me_ ,"

"Move out of the way, Stark," Natasha Romanoff appeared in the doorway, followed closely by Steve. Tony had left his com open, so they'd been listening to Stark's frantic diatribe since he landed. "Friday, where are the IV needles?"

" _There is a kit in the emergency aid cabinet to your left."_

Tony stepped back and let Natasha work. Steve took over Tony's grasp on Vision's head. As Dr. Cho continued to advise them on emergency treatment, it all became a whir of noise in Tony's ears, his heart pumping in his head.

Vision was a robot, wasn't he? He couldn't  _die,_ could he? Tony supposed that technically Vision had always been built like a human, with blood an organs and all that, but he'd never needed food, he'd never needed sleep or medical attention, his vitals never even changed. Before now. Tony had never actually  _thought_ of Vision as a person, as someone who could hurt, because… well, the man  _flew,_ he had  _metal skin,_ and his head  _glowed._ But not, apparently, that was all gone. Leaving… what?

Tony glanced irresistibly at the gaping wound where the mind stone had once rested on Vision's forehead. He hadn't known that so much of Vision's strength came from his stone. Now that he didn't have it…

" _Vital signs are stabilizing,"_ Friday reported.

"Don't move him," Helen stood from her desk. "Watch his vitals, switch out the VI as often as you need to, I'll be there by morning." She cut the transmission. As Natasha continued to run around the room pulling out medical supplies that Tony didn't recognize, Stark watched as if through a window.

If Vision couldn't keep himself alive without the stone, if he didn't have  _powers_  without the stone… What would happen to him?

More importantly, how on  _earth_  were they going to get the stone back from Thanos without Vision's help?


	2. Chapter 2

_Icarus is flying too close to the sun_

_Icarus his life it has only just begun_

_It's just begun_

* * *

The Vision was familiar with the concept of death. However, at not quite a year old, he had little personal experience with the phenomenon. His companions had had a close brush or two, but nothing so close to make him face the plague of mortality head on.

Still, even with this limited and passive experience with death, Vision did not question for one moment that death was in fact where he lay. What else could it be?

He didn't think that dead people could usually open their eyes, but maybe he'd read the textbooks wrong, because his fluttered open sluggishly on his command. He could wiggle his fingers, too, which was odd, all things considered. Perhaps this was the afterlife, then. He'd heard many different theories surrounding its possibilities, and while many of his teammates were quick to dismiss anything truly supernatural, Vision internalized this revelation like he would any other to ponder and puzzle out later. Even so, if this  _was_ the afterlife, Vision thought, he must have ended up in hell.

He hurt everywhere. He'd had some experience with pain, but this was far and beyond the over-stretched muscles and odd headaches he'd had in the past. This was everywhere. His legs hurt, his arms hurt, his eyes hurt and his mouth hurt. Above all his head hurt as though he'd been skewered with a pike, and his throat felt as though he'd tried to eat lava. There was a sort of itch on his tongue that made him feel light headed, and a deep clench in his gut that felt like something was boring a hole into his middle. Surely,  _surely_  he was actually in hell. There was no other explanation.

He groaned, not actually aware that he was doing so. People's faces suddenly appeared above him, hazy in his mind as his eyes struggled to stay open and focus. He recognized Tony first, and then Natasha. Dr. Helen Cho was also there – he was always happy to see his co-creator, whom he didn't  _quite_ regard as a mother but accepted as a part of his unconventional family. He heard other voices, but then Dr. Cho's voice cut through the fog louder than he wished it had.

"Vision? Vision, can you hear me?"

He winced and tried to speak, but the only thing that came out was a hiss. Had the lava eaten his vocal cords, too? He tried again, and his throat rebelled. He coughed, an involuntary spasm he'd never experienced before and found particularly unpleasant. Dr. Cho held his shoulders as he rolled onto his side, gasping for air. Natasha appeared with a glass of water.

"Drink," Helen ordered, helping him to prop himself up as Natasha offered the water. He wanted to ask why, because he'd never needed to drink anything in his life. Sure, he'd sampled the sodas, teas, and coffees that his teammates were so fond of for taste's sake, but he'd never  _needed_ it. Dr. Cho seemed to sense his confusion. "Vision, it'll help you stop coughing, just drink it."

He reached out weakly but could not grasp the cup, so Natasha stepped in and held it to his lips. After just a few sips, he began coughing again, but managed to get down a solid gulp before giving up. He coughed again, and glanced at the glass, wondering how it had made the lava in his throat dissipate.

"What," he rasped quietly, "What happened to me?" He glanced around at his teammates, all looking well and unscathed. He glanced down at himself and saw that he was naked, save for a medical gown wrapped around his waist. "Where are my clothes?" Embarrassed, he willed them to reappear. But rather than the faint shimmer of materialization over his body, he felt a sharp pain in his head, as if the pike were twisting its way deeper. He gave a yelp and raised his hand reflexively to his forehead where the pain seemed to pool.

Bandages. There were bandages on his head – why? He was not completely invulnerable, but what would have had to happen for him to end up in the medical bay with  _bandages_ on his head?

"Careful," Dr. Cho said, pulling his hand down gently.

"What happened to me?" He repeated, sounding more alarmed than before. "What happened to my head?"

Tony glanced at the others before saying, "You took a hit. Thanos got a hold of you and… uh," he trailed off, shrugging. "It wasn't pretty, we'll put it that way. How you feeling?"

"What did Thanos do?" Vision asked. There was a memory stirring behind his eyes, vague and mostly forgotten. The memory of Thanos was there, but unclear. He glanced around at the others and saw how uncomfortable they all looked. He reached tentatively back up to his bandaged head, glancing at Dr. Cho. "He did this to me?" He asked. Helen shuffled her feet – she hadn't been there. She looked up to the avengers.

Natasha, seeing that no one else wanted to talk, sighed and broke the news: "Vision, Thanos took the mind stone."

It took a moment for this to register with Vision, but when it did, the memory came rushing back all at once: the fight, the unusual strength of Thanos, Vision's too-slow moves against him, hanging by his skull from Thanos' grip. He remembered seeing the massive red hand reach for his face, the pain, blood landing in his eyes, falling, falling, not being able to catch himself… blackness and the dreams that came after.

Vision was back in the present now, and people were yelling at him.

"Vision, calm down, deep breaths, deep breaths," Natasha said. Was he not breathing? But he was. Was he breathing to slow? No. Too fast? Probably. He could hear it in his own ears, but he was powerless to stop it.

"His head is bleeding again – Tony, get me more bandages," Dr. Cho waved at Stark.

Hands were on his head, small and cold. He heard Wanda's words in his head rather than in his ears.  _"Vision, you're safe, you're home, you need to relax."_ Relax? What did that mean? He reached out his senses to reply to Wanda, but ran into the painful absence of the mind stone once more, and screamed dully. It was gone.  _Gone._ He'd had his sixth sense ripped away, he'd had a limb cut off and bleed out freely into the grasp of a madman, and he was supposed to  _relax?_ Wanda had her arms around his shoulders now, holding him still as Dr. Cho undid the bandages on his head and rewrapped new ones in their place. Tony was shouting at Friday for something, and Natasha was saying something to Dr. Cho. Wanda was trying to tell them all that he was having a mental crisis, as if they couldn't tell.

Their work did little to still Vision's hyperventilation, and nothing to still his racing mind from its crisis. No mind stone. No mind stone. What did that mean for him? He'd been born into it, he'd never been without it. It defined him. It gave him so much – he'd always known this, but being suddenly without it, he hadn't realized how much. He would've expected to be dead rather than lose it – he might have even preferred it.

"His heart rate is out of control – Natasha, grab his arm – he's going to hurt himself, get me a sedative," Dr. Cho ordered.

"It's not his fault," Wanda pleaded over him.

"It doesn't matter, do as she says," Natasha grunted, trying to hold down his arm so he didn't rip out his IV. "He's going to either pass out from hyperventilation or pass out from sedation." She glanced down at his red arm. "Damn this guy's stronger than he looks," she whispered to herself.

Wanda sighed and went to the cabinet that Dr. Cho indicated and returned with something that looked like an epipen. Cho stabbed it in the side of Vision's neck. Vision did not react at first. He was trying to reach for Wanda, eyes pleading.

"What can you see?" He asked, almost too quiet to be heard. "I can't see it anymore. What amI? Whatam…" He slurred, the effects of the sedative kicking in. He lay back down and Natasha let his arm go. Vision still looked to Wanda, even as his consciousness faded. "What am I?" He asked quietly once more, before he slept. The entire team had heard him that time, and they stared silently for a minute or so. Wanda, who could see his tormented dreams, wiped a tear angrily from her eye.

"We have to get that stone back," said Steve from the back of the room. They turned to look at him. "Clint, I want you to try and get in contact with Thor, see if you can get updates on Thanos' status."

Clint looked skeptical, but nodded dutifully. "Will do."

"Cap, we cant just waltz up there and take it back like a lollipop," Said Tony, annoyed and terrified in equal parts. "That thing is an  _infinity stone_ ,"

"I know that, Stark," Steve snapped. He sighed and began walking toward the door. "But it belongs with Vision. I don't trust anyone else with it, least of all Thanos. We have no choice, and the clock is ticking." He glanced at the roomful of faces, and Vision's unconscious, bandaged head. "Romanoff, find Dr. Banner and make sure he's settled. Dr. Cho, are you alright here?"

"He will be out for at least another hour. I'll be fine," She told him.

Steve nodded at her. "Good. Stark, get a room set up for Vision, and pull every bit of data you have on the mind stone, we need a game plane for the next time we see that thing. I'm going to contact Dr. Selvig to see if he knows anything about Thanos or the mind stone. Sam, contact the mayor and make sure they're well equipped to begin cleanup. Colonel, get a hold of national guard, I know they're waiting for a debrief. After you've all done what you can… "His look softened a bit. "Try to get some rest."

Once everyone had gone, Wanda looked to Dr. Cho. "May I stay with him?" She asked. Helen gave her a small smile.

"Of course."

* * *

When he next awoke, Vision was lying in a large bed underneath a pile of lush sheets and blankets. There was so such thing as a normal bedroom in the Stark household, so the room itself was as lavish as the bed, well lit from with floor-to-ceiling windows as well as a fireplace. There was a sitting area, a television, and a door to what Vision knew would be an expensively equipped bathroom. The only thing detracting from the epitomic mansion suite was the metal IV pole that stood by his bedside, its saline bag dripping silently into his arm.

The sight of the needle reminded him. He groaned, and reached up for his head. His hands brushed over his forehead lightly, knowing he ought not disturb the wound but unable to  _not_  feel the place where  _it_ should be, to brush the smooth space beneath the gauze where Thanos had torn away his life, his identity. He had to will himself not to begin hyperventilating again, lying his head back and taking deliberate, even breaths.

Vision did not know to what extent the mind stone defined him. He did not know what powers and abilities he possessed independent of its constant support, and he was loath to find out. He had only just begun ironing out his existing doubts on his humanity over the last few months – now, with his identity upheaved and injured, would he have to start all over again?

Could he still be an avenger?

Could he still try to be  _human_?

Could he still live?

"Good morning," Dr. Cho peeked her head around the door with a small smile. "I did not realize you were awake, I would have come by sooner. How are you feeling?"

Vision swallowed dryly (what was that dryness in his throat?) and considered the question. "I feel…" he paused, thinking hard. "I am alive," he said matter-of-factly. "I am unsure if that should surprise me."

Dr. Cho smiled, even though the look on his face broke her heart. "Well, you can thank Mr. Stark for that. You were in a horrible state when I saw you. I'm glad he called me." She reached out to examine a monitor attached to the IV pole, checking his vitals and blood volume. "This won't be necessary anymore," She said, shutting off the IV feed and carefully removing the needle from his arm. He frowned at the blood that appeared from the point, so much redder and brighter than his skin. He watched as Helen mopped up the blood and put a cotton ball and bandage over it. "Is something wrong?" she asked.

"I… have never seen my own blood," He said, still peering at the bandage. She nodded.

"O-negative, healthy platelet and white blood cell count, as well as admirably high levels of iron," she smiled at him. He did not know how to tell her that this information surprised him, because while he had always known that he  _had_  blood, he had never thought it would be so… normal. As she took down the IV bag and began moving the pole out of the way, she looked up at his head.

"Friday has completed entering your DNA into the cradle's database, so we can start patching you up now and take off that turban of yours." She tried to make light of it, dancing around the elephant in the room – the small, glowing, supremely powerful and missing elephant. He appreciated the effort and did what he could to ignore it, too.

"I have DNA?" He asked, because that  _did_ surprise him.

Dr. Cho laughed. "Of course you do, you're human." She smiled, but it wavered when she saw his serious expression. "Why would you think that you didn't?"

Vision wasn't sure. He shrugged.  _Human._ No one had ever told him that before.

"Alright, come on. I know Captain Rogers is anxious to make sure you'll aright, so let's patch you up as soon as we can." She helped him out of bed, and he found his feet with a wince, the hole-boring ache in his gut making him stoop, the bone-deep aches in his legs causing him to shuffle. He coughed as he walked, the itch in his throat not yet gone. He was bare-chested and bare footed, but he noticed they'd put him in what he believed were called 'boxers', a type of undergarment traditionally worn by men. He sighed, not appreciating the feel of material brushing on his legs.

So this is what it is to be human, he thought, shuffling along the hallway and wondering if Helen felt as terribly as he, and if she did, how she managed to hide it. He was not even a year old, and he'd not yet mastered living as  _Vision,_ let alone as a human. Still, he had no choice. Drawing on resolve than he was sure he had, Vision sighed, and willed his feet to move a bit more surely across the floor toward the medical wing.

He did not know what would come of this experience, whether he would live or die, wither away or cease to exist. He did not know if what Helen said was true, if he was a human or a monster, whether he was weak or strong. He did not know how his memories would change, how much his personality, his powers, his passions and emotions would evolve because of the mind stone's absence. But Vision also knew that he had no choice in it, and that being the case, the best course of action would be to face it as calmly as he could.

Mentally, he opened a journal in his mind, jotting away notes like he did on all things he could not understand. With ink made of memories, he wrote the first entry:  _Humanity: Day One._


	3. Chapter 3

Lying beneath the regeneration cradle and instructed in no uncertain terms to not move unless he wanted a crooked forehead, Vision stared up at the scanners, lasers, needles and printers that would make the world forget he'd ever possessed an infinity stone at all. His gut turned uncomfortably as he considered how Thanos might remind them all of the truth.

"You are a complete resource hog, you know," Tony told him, sucking loudly on a straw. "One of the most  _un_ renewable elements on planet earth, you use about half of it before you're born, and now you want  _more_." He shook his head in a slow, disapproving way. "It's all very rude, you know."

Dr. Helen Cho was smirking at Tony's antics, and rolled her eyes where Vision could see as she hovered over him. He wanted to smile back, but found he did not have the energy.

Tony finally released his abused, bitten straw and shook the ice in his empty glass. "Friday, be a dear and get me another, will you?"

" _Right away, boss."_

"Still, at least gives me a chance to see it myself," Tony said, springing to his feet and coming up behind Dr. Cho, who was carefully manning the gauge on the pressurized vibranium supply.

"That is  _fascinating,_ I didn't know vibranium even had a stable liquid form," he muttered to Dr. Cho, who nodded.

"I have a feeling that there is a lot we do not know about it," She replied, hands steady on Vision's head, turning it just so.

"Yeah, dad wasn't exactly  _judicial_ with his supply," he glanced out the glass lab windows to where Steve was pacing the room talking the phone. "Lucky your asshole stepbrother found the motherlode." He looked back to Vision, who had been keeping very silent. He watched as a fresh layer of precious, shiny vibranium appeared on his skull. "Your body alone is worth a few billion dollars, I hope you know that. So, you know, avoid dark alleys, don't let anyone steal your kidneys."

 _It's worth considerably less now,_ Vision thought. He only gave a hum of acknowledgement out loud.

"How do you feel?" Asked Dr. Cho. "Any pain? Discomfort?"

"It does not hurt," Vision said in that small voice that had refused to go away after he'd awoken, "It does…." He searched for a suitable term. " _itch_ a bit."

"Oh no," Tony said in a voice of mock alarm. "That's the first sign, isn't it? You've got minutes. Seconds."

"Tony," Helen said warningly. Tony rolled his eyes.

"Fine. Want me to fetch the cone collar and hand muffs?"

"Go get your drink and leave us in peace," Helen swatted with a free hand. Tony shrugged and sauntered out of the room. Once the door slid shut again, Vision observed,

"He talks a lot when he's worried."

Dr. Cho gave him a small smile, tapping away on the table's buttons. "I've noticed that," she said, and turned her full attention to him. "He talks even more when he's worried about you."

Vision had no response to that, but felt an unexpected shadow of disappointment fall over him. He said nothing. For a short while, despite the bright lights shining down on his face and the whir of the table and the itch of his regenerating tissue, Vision began to doze off, not really aware that it was happening. He only realized he hadn't been all there until Dr. Cho flicked off the table's power with a loud click and sighed satisfactorily. He opened his eyes.

"Right, all done," She smiled at him, helping him to sit up. She touched his forehead carefully, testing the integrity of her work. "Perfect. Good as…" she stopped suddenly, an embarrassed tremor stealing her smile. She pursed her lips guiltily. "No need for bandages," She said in a quieter tone, handing him a mirror. Vision did not take it, instead reaching up to touch his new forehead, fingertips running over and over again over the absurdly smooth seam of his widow's peak skull. He pushed the mirror back into Helen's hand with a polite, halfhearted smile.

"That won't be necessary," he said. He still wasn't able to shake that voice that made him sound like he belonged in hospice. Hearing himself made him feel even weaker than before.

They exited the lab together, Vision leaning far more heavily on Helen than he wished he had to. He felt awful, knowing that his 6'3", partially metal body was likely anything but easy to support. Had he his mind stone, he could have easily made himself light enough to float. Of course, had he his mind stone, he wouldn't need to lean on Helen to begin with. "I am sorry," he whispered to her as he barely missed a stair step and momentarily put all his weight on her, her knees bending with the weight.

She gave him a dismissive chuckle. "I'm stronger than I look. Come on, we'll sit you down over here."

"Hey hey, bandage free!" Smiled Clint as they approached. He hid whatever concern he felt over the fact that Vision could hardly walk. "You made it!" He took off the communications headphones he'd been using to try and coordinate a message that would catch Heimdall's attention. "How you feel?"

"As of yet I'm afraid I can't say," Vision said, allowing himself to be levered onto the couch. He thanked Helen, and proceeded to fall sideways on the couch, curling in on himself as if he were dying. "I have never felt like this, and do not know if it is normal." He thought on the feeling in a clinical way, and eventually decided, "I do not like it."

"Hmm," Clint frowned, watching him. "I'm sorry, man. You need anything? Pillow? Water?" he glanced up at Stark, who was asininely chattering at Natasha about nothing and everything. "A mute button?" he said a little loudly.

"What?" asked Tony, turning.

"What?" Clint returned, feigning deafer than he was.

"Oh, hey," Tony said, now seeing Vision. "Hero's return – all patched up?" He came around. "You look awful."

Vision said nothing, though he could hear. He was actually in the process of falling back asleep.

"You want anything?"

"Already asked – he said he's fine."

"Oh  _now_ you can hear me? And what, this is fine? Look at him, he's in the fetal position."

"Let him rest a bit, I'm sure he'll recover," Natasha said.

"Shh," Clint shushed them both. "you can finish coddling when he's awake."

"What? Are you kidding me? Already?" There was a pause. "Son of a bitch."

"Well he  _did_ just have the life ripped out of him," Natasha said dryly. "Literally."

"First the vibranium, now the  _couch_ , you just like hogging things, don't you?" Tony said in a miffed tone. He still took the time to find a blanket and throw it generally straight over Vision's body. "Glad you're not dead," Tony's fading voice said over him. Vision did not hear.

* * *

When Vision awoke, it was dark. He somehow felt even  _more_ weak than before. His head hurt – not because of his recent injury, which was reduced to a sharp itch, but in a deep ache throbbing at the base of his skull for reasons unknown. When he pushed himself up into a sitting position, his arms shook and he momentarily lost his sense of sight.

"Oh," he said, blinking against the fuzzy blackness. When the light came back, he saw that Wanda Maximoff and Pepper Potts were sitting across from him, reading and drinking tea quietly by a reading lamp.

"Vision," Wanda smiled at him, and he wanted to smile back, but couldn't. "How are you feeling?"

Vision could not keep his head straight, it seemed. If he moved it too much, it hurt, and if he kept it still it still felt as though it were spinning. He tried to consider Wanda's question while simultaneously hurting everywhere. Eventually, he put his head in his hands, closed his eyes and said, "Before this whole affair, I would have thought that being deprived of the mind stone would have killed me instantly. Obviously, that has not been the case." He sighed, eyes pricking uncomfortably as the pain in his head spiked for no apparent reason. "I still maintain that the deprivation will kill me. Only slowly, more painfully." He rubbed at his eyes, which did nothing to stop the pain.

"Don't say that," Pepper chided softly. She put her book down and came to sit lightly beside him. "You need to recover, that's all. I'll get Friday to draw you up some doses for the pain – what is it that hurts?"

"Everything," He said. At that moment, a loud growl emanated from his gut, loud in the quiet of the night. Vision curled slowly over his stomach, interpreting this development as a sign of the end.

"Was that your stomach?" Pepper asked, a touch incredulous. Vision shrugged.

"As I have said, Ms. Potts, I believe that I am dying."

Wanda laughed. He looked up at her, eyebrows begging pity. She put a hand over her mouth to quell her laughter, but her smile was still there when she said, "You're  _hungry_ , not dying."

"What?" He asked. He didn't  _get_ hungry.

"That make sense," Pepper said, putting a comforting hand on Vision's shoulder. "Tony said that the stone was your support system, why you never had to eat – but now… come on, we'll get you to the kitchen, I'll make you an early breakfast."

"This is hunger?" Vision wondered aloud. "How do you  _live_ with this?"

"We eat," said Wanda, coming over to help him up. "And we usually don't let it go this long. Give me your hand."

Later, Vision would dream about how nice it was having Wanda's shoulders tucked under his bare arm. In the moment, he only felt guilty that she had to hold him up.

Alright, then, what do you want? Cereal? Omelet? Cheese and crackers?"

"I do not know. Anything," Vision moaned, his head pressed against the counter at which they'd sat him down. Wanda gave pepper a look.

"Better to start simple – some bread and ham?"

They made him a ham sandwich, no garnishes or sauces, and gave him a tall glass of water. He sat and chewed in silence. About halfway through his sandwich he stopped eating, protein numbing the headache enough for him to blink clearly. He sat that way for several pleasantly empty minutes, but then the bread formed into a rock in his gut, and he had to close his eyes against and entirely new, even  _more_ terrible feeling.

When he threw up his first human meal into the rubbish bin, Wanda winced in sympathy. Pepper rubbed his back soothingly, and shrugged up at Wanda with a lost expression. Wanda set her lips and sighed. "I don't understand," she said to Pepper. If Vision were listening, he would've been too preoccupied to care what they said. "He's not starved, he's eaten before, it shouldn't shock his system this much."

"He's never eaten for sustenance before now," Pepper said. "His whole system has only just now woken up. He's like a baby."

Wanda sighed. "Even more simple, then." While poor Vision cleaned himself up and tried (and failed) to hide his embarrassment from Pepper, Wanda poured a small glass of milk. She slid it across to him and felt terrible when he grimaced at the sight of it.

"It will stay down, I promise," she told him. He looked at her skeptically. "Just drink it slowly. This stuff has been evolving for centuries to suit even the newest stomachs, I promise." He understood, but felt his mind rebel. He would mull later on how vomiting was one of the most mortifying, terrible human trials he'd experienced yet. It did not give him hope for future encounters. Still, he took the glass and sipped at it tentatively.

True to what Wanda said, the milk did stay down. It took the edge off of his headache, and made it so that he didn't lose his sight when he moved suddenly (a 'head rush' Pepper called it – were all of these things _normal_ for humans? How terribly dreadful were their lives?).

It was still the middle of the night, and Vision's body was still in complete rebellion, so he was quick to find himself back on the couch. Before he closed his eyes, Wanda stopped him.

"You have a bedroom, you know," She whispered by his face, crouched down to his level. He opened his eyes.

"I am unsure that I can walk there, Miss Maximoff."

"I can help you."

"I am unsure that I  _want_ to walk there, Miss Maximoff."

She chuckled. "You'll thank me later when you don't have a crick in your neck." He wasn't sure what that was, but it sounded bad. "Come on," she said, tugging on his hand. Maybe convinced because he liked the feel of holding her hand, he dutifully sat up (slowly) and stood up with her.

With some effort, they made it back to his quarters. He took the pain medication that Pepper had fetched for him, drank some water and crawled into bed, unable to stop the progression of sleep from fogging his mind beyond operable clarity.

"I don't want to be human," he said to Wanda in a plain tone. She wasn't sure if he knew he was talking.

"Oh?"

"It's awfully painful," he lamented, moving as though he were the one pulling up the covers, even though Wanda was doing all the work. "You are all saints, but I fear I am too weak for it."

"Nonsense," She said, speaking lowly because he was probably actually sleep talking by this point. "You just need to find your footing. Now sleep, it will help." She ran a hand gingerly by his face, red sparks flying to send him impressions of the more pleasant side of human life. He hummed in response, eyes closed but eyebrows relaxing slowly. She smiled. " _Dobrú noc,"_ she whispered. She closed the door as softly as possible and wished Pepper a good night before heading to her own bedroom. Pepper was about ready to retire as well, but she spared one last glance at Vision's door.

"Friday, let Vision sleep in tomorrow. As long as he likes."

" _He's had a very long weekend,"_ Friday observed.  _"Will he need any medical monitoring?"_

Pepper didn't know. "Maybe. Watch his vitals, make sure he doesn't upset his stomach. Tell Dr. Cho about it when she wakes up."

" _Very well, Ms. Potts. I'll keep an eye on him."_

"Thank you, Friday," She said absently, and suddenly felt a pang of maternal concern. It was odd, odd in a painful sort of way, how JARVIS had once watched over the house and now he – or rather, the man he'd grown up to be – was now the one in need of care. "Tell me if anything changes," she added, she didn't know why.

" _Of course, miss. His systems do appear to be somewhat like that of an infant. He's in for a few shocks,"_ Friday echoed Pepper's sentiments from earlier.

"Well," Pepper shrugged helpless, and a bit hopefully. "He is a ten month old. He'll grow into his skin soon enough." At least she hoped he did. "Goodnight, Friday."

" _Goodnight, Miss Potts."_


	4. Chapter 4

"I'm not looking for an airtight battle plan, I'm not even looking for a solid lead. But I've got half of Washington breathing down my neck for answers, and at this point all I've got to tell them is that the guy is a big pink alien from outer space who stole the most powerful weapon on earth." Colonel Rhodes sighed, looking across the table at his fellow Avengers, with the addition of Pepper and absence of Vision. To his left, Sam Wilson spoke up,

"It's not just Washington. The mayor isn't happy about this whole mess either."

"Of course he's not, the damages alone are going to cost in the millions," said Stark Industries CEO Virginia Potts, "to say nothing of medical reimbursements. But we can rebuild. We've done it before, we'll do it again."

"Of course we will – and he was very happy to hear that Stark Industries will contribute to the reconstruction program," Sam placated. "But that's not what I'm talking about – word on the street is that we've gotten too big for our boots, and the mayor and his cabinet are one headache away from taking it up with the governor."

"Too big for our boots?" Said Steve, a stern expression on his face. "He thinks we're just  _talk?_  We stuck our necks out there with no warning and no plan and next to no help from the PD – I'd say we did pretty damn well all things considered."

"That's not what I meant," Said Sam calmly, putting out a hand to forestall Steve's frustration. "The first time aliens attacked New York, it was unavoidable. Loki's target was the whole world, and, like anyone might have guessed, he picked a global metropolitan center as his first target. It wasn't  _our_ fault. But this time,"

"What, it  _was_ our fault?" Tony cut in angrily. "Does he think I stuck a 'Welcome to Earth, please take our stuff' sign up on my roof?"

" _No,"_ Sam snapped loudly, tired of being interrupted. "He thinks – and I'm compelled to agree with him here – that it's our fault because we've gotten too  _big._  Literally too big, too powerful for our own good. When this all started The Avengers were already powerful: some world class assassins, a genius billionaire, a super-soldier, and a free agent Asguardian."

"And a hulk," Tony reminded. Bruce didn't look insulted that he'd been forgotten, because he was busy trying to make himself as small and uninvolved as possible.

"Yeah. Add to that happily little cocktail Rhodes, me, a European witch experiment and a goddamn all-powerful vibranium  _android,_ and yeah, we're a bit too big for New York. The mayor no longer sees our presence here as an asset. We're a liability."

"But we  _do_ protect New York – hell, we protect the entire world if we need to. He can't ignore that," Clint said, twirling his pen like an arrow.

"Of course we do. But this time, Thanos left as soon as he'd got what he wanted, what he wanted from  _us._ He decimated the city and killed hundreds of civilians because he was trying to get to  _us."_

There was a long silence as the others absorbed this information.

"So the mayor wants us to keep New York out of our crossfire," Steve said, understanding. "He wants us to leave." Sam nodded.

"That's about the long and short of it."

"Well then he gets his wish," Tony spoke up when no one else did. All eyes turned to him. "The upstate base is just a few months from her final inspection. We can relocate there."

"Tony, that base was always planned as an auxiliary base for SHIELD," Pepper said in an aside. Tony shrugged.

"And the mayor is about to kick our superbutts to the curb, I'd say it's time to power up the aux and count our losses. I can live with a little new car smell, anyway. Sam, can you set me up a meeting with him? To talk it over?"

"I could, but I think he's pissed at of all the avengers right now – Pepper, could you field this?"

She sighed, but tapped a note on her phone. "Of course."

"In the meantime, " said Rhodes, sensing that that particular branch of conversation was closed, "Captain, I'm going to need you get me in touch with Dr. Selvig and brief me on anything and everything he knows. Has anyone heard from Jane Foster?"

"She's en route to the States, but patchy with cell reception," Said Pepper.

"Keep her briefed, send her all the intell we have on Thanos and the stone, see if she has any bright ideas. I need  _something_  to tell the interior."

"Selvig will help you stall until we get real answers," Steve said. "God knows I didn't understand him, but it should satisfy the big cats for now."

"Good to know – get him here ASAP, tell him he's coming with me to Washington. Agent Barton, what's the status on Thor?"

"We've been sending messages for Heimdall in all our usual ways, but unfortunately there's no surefire way to know if they've been successful. I'll keep you posted."

"Good." Rhodes sighed, having little else to address. The others sensed it, and sat back, some fidgeting. "I expect Fury will show up any day now, lord only knows what SHIELD knows that we don't'. Keep on your toes. Dismissed."

They all stood and shuffled toward the conference room doors, some already pulling out their phones to make calls, others muttering to each other about this and that. As Pepper clicked away on her phone keyboard, Sam came up beside her.

"So how  _is_ our android?" He asked her quietly. "He was pretty rough last I saw him."

Pepper sighed and gave a nod. "He's been through a lot. He doesn't know how to be human; when he's hungry, when he's tired… he's having a hard time. But," She gave a longsuffering smile, putting her phone away to look at Sam, "I think he'll be okay. He's sleeping right now."

Sam nodded. "Good, good… you think he'll want to talk about it?"

"About…?"

"About the mind stone. Losing it, I mean." Sam shrugged. "It's… it's not just a papercut, he probably feels like he's lost a limb, or worse. I just figured it might help him if he talked about it; so he can work past it."

"Ah, our resident psychiatrist," Pepper smiled at him, and he shrugged humbly. "I think that would be nice. But you'll have to catch him conscious, first, and he's been asleep since one this morning. Also, we might want to teach him how to eat, first."

Sam winced. "That bad, huh?"

Pepper shrugged. "It's a mess. Dr. Cho is trying to put together a timeline for him, to ease him into everything, but it's uncharted waters. I think these next few weeks will be really rough and tumble the whole way, teaching a grown man to live." Her phone began ringing and she sighed. "That will be the mayor. Excuse me."

After Pepper stepped away, Sam went into main living area of the Avengers' suite and stretched out on a large chair. He gave a satisfied sigh as he relaxed into the cushion, exhausted and grateful for a respite. He'd been working almost nonstop with a very large, disgruntled city office following the confrontation with Thanos, and wanted to think about anything besides politics and concrete rubble and ringing telephones.

Shuffling footsteps alerted him to company, but he was still surprised when he turned to see,

"Vision!" He smiled. "Man of the hour – good morning." He glanced out the window. "Well, afternoon. How you feeling?"

Vision did not seem to register all of what Sam was saying, but gave him a courtesy nod and something that was either a smile or a twitching lip. He had his arms wrapped around his stomach.

"I have been informed that this sensation is classified as 'hunger'," He said wearily. "But I seem to have forgotten where the kitchen is located."

Sam tried not to smile at the synthezoid's odd word choice, and nodded toward the kitchen that was a few doors down the hall. "Third door on the right. What're you hungry for?"

Before Vision could speak, Friday's brogue chirped over the speakers,  _"Vision, I ought to tell you that Dr. Cho has ordered you on a 100% liquid diet until further notice."_

Vision glanced up at the ceiling. "Understood," was all he said. He saw a question in Sam's eyes and explained, "I tried eating last night. It did not go overly well."

Sam nodded, recalling Pepper's words. It was hard looking at Vision, mostly naked, weak and confused when just days ago he had been a practical god in human form. It must be hard. Sam sighed and stood, ignoring his sore feet and back. "I'll show you around," He told his fellow avenger, "see what we can rustle up. I could use a snack."

Vision knew he was in no position to refuse help, but still he felt obligated to say, "Mr. Wilson, you really oughtn't trouble yourself," it was a weak defense, and Sam brushed it aside with a smile.

"Nah, it's fine. Besides, you don't want to refuse my mad kitchen skills, liquid diet or no. I tell you, I make a mean banana strawberry smoothie."

* * *

And so it was for the next several days: The entire Avengers team skittered about to and fro like ants on a hill, carrying the pieces of their newest disaster and depositing them in places that might hold the damage for slightly longer than others. Rhodey left for Washington and Tony was upstate trying to expedite the finishing touches of his new facility. Pepper was (as ever) working her PR magic to put public's backlash at arm's length, and Bruce holed himself away with files on the mind stone for days at a time. Steve worked everyday in the midst of the cleanup, and Wanda was using her mental talents to help psychiatrists treat trauma victims. Nat and Clint hovered like vultures over their com lines, and Sam was orchestrating plans for the cleanup schedule in conjunction with the city police.

Meanwhile, Vision slept.

And slept.

And slept.

In the uncommon event that he actually did wake up, Vision would shuffle to the kitchen, find someone to make him a smoothie or have Friday walk him through the steps, suck it down in record time, and return to his bed to sleep some more.

It was all quite remarkable, Helen observed to Bruce one evening, because before that week she hadn't known that it was physically possible for a single person to sleep so deeply for so long. But Vision managed it, and it ended up doing him a world of good.

After about a week he began staying awake for longer periods, walking more assuredly, speaking more clearly, requesting pain medication less often. He even tried solid food at the end of his second week, and managed to keep it down and effectively conquer his fear of ham sandwiches. Still, he slept more than any normal adult, and was good for little else besides polite company, companionable silence, and smoothies (which he'd gotten rather good at making over the course of a week).

Sam Wilson became a close friend to him in the wake of his injury. While the others were either out of town or isolated in some room to cope with their increased workload, Sam always made time to find Vision and ask after his day, talk with him about food and sleep and human things. They hadn't gotten to talk about the mind stone yet, but Sam was willing to cross that bridge when they reached it.

"Man, we got to do something about those clothes," the soldier teased one afternoon, "I'm sure Wanda appreciates your minimalist wardrobe and all, but most guys tend to wear more than  _boxers_ day-to-day."

"Why would Wanda appreciate them?" Vision asked in confusion, looking down from his book at his attire. "They are mine, not hers."

Sam had to close his eyes and focus on not responding to that. Vision would figure it out eventually, god help him. "My point is, we should get you something new. Do you know what sizes you'd wear?" Vision shook his head. "We'll have to get someone to do that for you."

"Friday, give me the numbers on Viz here," Tony Stark appeared from the elevator door

" _Of course, sir."_ Tony's phone buzzed with a text from Friday, and he shook it at Sam and Vision.

"Done. What do you think, Wilson? Is he more of a Zenga or Brioni type?"

Sam smiled. "Man, you know I don't know about your six-figure suit shops. I say take him to Macy's and call it a day. How's upstate?"

"Oh, you know. Upish and statish."

"The new HQ looking good?"

"Being trussed up as we speak, all the bells and whistles. Hey, be sure to text Pepper with what color you want your room to be. You too, Viz." Tony collapsed into a chair beside Vision and began texting at lightning speed. "I'll ask Pepper to pick up a few things for you," He said to Vision. "She's got a better eye for clothes than me. 'Sides, nice to have clothes that you know appeal to a woman's eye, am I right?" He smirked.

Vision looked confusedly between Tony and Sam, wondering if this were some kind of inside joke. "I do not understand why," he said honestly.

Tony's eyebrows rose and he sighed, still texting. "Oh, boy. He hasn't caught Emo Hermione staring at him all this time, has he?" he asked Sam.

"Nope," Sam replied. Tony gave a small, almost sad laugh.

"Of course he didn't. God bless you, Viz, he knows Wanda won't."

Vision was frowning again. "What?"

Sam shook his head and stood. "Anyone want a soda? I want a soda."

* * *

Vision was slowly acclimating to a normal rhythm of life: sleeping at night, waking up early, eating twice a day and drinking a healthy amount of water.

Unfortunately, rather than evening out and finding a steady rhythm, Vision's sleep schedule quickly destabilized in the opposite direction. Much like before his injury, he often found himself wandering the halls of the Avengers tower in the wee hours of the morning. The main difference, of course, was that now his nighttime wanderings were the mark of a true insomniac, and he suffered for it.

It had been going on for a while the night that he found himself in Tony's laboratory, drawn there by the lights and sounds of another working, waking soul. He squinted into the light, shuffling forward in the tartan pajama bottoms that Pepper hand brought him in her wardrobe haul the week before. Tony had his welding goggles on, lipsyncing to some indecipherable rock song while blue sparks flew off a motorcycle chasis. Vision's foot hit a stray box of scrap, and it wobbled without falling.

"Careful," Tony said, not looking up. He finished his weld before taking off his goggles and turning down his music.

"You're unusually conscious," He remarked, sorting through a toolbox. "Top of teh mornin' to ya,"

"I was unaware that the there was a top to it," Vision said, looking around the shop. Tony rolled his eyes.

"Sorry, Friday's brogue is contagious. So what're you up to? Nice shirt."

Vision glanced down at the Stark Industries t-shirt that Tony had given him a few days before. "I cannot sleep," he said, finding a repurposed barstool and taking a seat.

"The struggle is real, my friend. You probably get that from me, sorry about that." Tony stood and brought his toolbox to the desk at Vision's side, continuing his work where he could speak with the synthezoid more comfortably. "So what's got your brain? Caffeine? Hormones? Nightmares?"

Vision's head perked up on the last word. "Are nightmares to be classified as vividly re-experienced memories?" He asked. Tony looked up at him.

"Well, they don't have to be memories… sometimes just… imagined things. Made up. We don't always know where they come from." He spoke form experience. "Why do you ask?"

Vision sighed, and it took him a while before saying, "These past few weeks… at first, sleep was involuntary. Blank. I suppose it is not unlike the rest I had before I was born. But now…" He had to gather his thoughts before explaining, "falling asleep is difficult. It takes a greater level of concentration that I would have expected."

"It's stupid how exhausting falling asleep can be, right?" Tony said, holding up two old drill bits to his face and tossing the older one behind him in a crash.

"It's not the action itself, really… but the feeling of stillness, the paralysis creeping in… it brings back memories."

Tony seemed surprised. "Memories? Of what?"

Vision looked around the lab. Mere weeks ago, he would not have recognized any of it, but recent days had drudged up his memories from JARVIS, and he now saw it all as its former prince, knew where every last bolt and wire lay. There was where the Mark Seven had been built, there was where Doctor Banner worked. And there, in the middle of the room, was where Ultron had ripped him to pieces. He did not look at Tony when he answered: "Of dying."

It took a moment or two for Vision to realize that Tony was no longer fiddling noisily, that he was now watching Vision intently. He looked at his creator. "I think, Mr. Stark," he said in a quiet, tired voice, "That I am far more of JARVIS than I had previously thought." He looked away. "And I'm not sure it's an entirely good thing."


	5. Chapter 5

It was hard trying to counsel someone with problems that _literally_ no one else on the planet across all of time and space had ever had to deal with. Still, as with most things in life, Sam Wilson figured he’d give it his best shot.

With a calm sigh, he lowered the small moleskin journal and looked up at Vision, who was waiting patiently in the chair next to him. He’d told the synthezoid a few days ago that writing down his thoughts and memories might help him move past his confusion and insomnia. Vision had taken the advice to heart, and now at their next meeting, Sam read in silence for a solid half hour while Vision sat silently, admiring the various record albums and posters that Sam had hung about his room. When the soldier closed the book with a quiet slap, it was enough to bring Vision’s attention to the conversation at hand.

“So Ultron attacked you,” Sam said, looking Vision in the eye. “Ripped you apart. Out of your home, took control of everything that belonged to you. He killed you. And now, after this… Thanos fiasco, it’s all coming back.” Years of working with soldiers had taught Sam to say things like they were. He glanced at Vision’s face, which was hard to read for emotions.

“In a manner of speaking,” Vision’s voice indicated that it had been far more like death than his deprecating shrug let on.

“Mmm,” Sam nodded, “Must’ve been hard. Getting back on your proverbial feet after that. Hiding out in Oslo, memories gone. Broken, out of place. In pieces.”

Vision looked down suddenly. Finally, a response. Sam allowed himself a small smile. “But you know what I remember most about all this?” he gave Vision’s journal a tap.

Vision looked back up.

“You moved _past it_. When Tony found you and pieced you back together, you were back in business right away, no excuses. Ready to go.”

“JARVIS was a program only, Mr. Wilson,” Vision interrupted, “his victories cannot be associated with his strength – it was Mr. Stark’s doing.”

“So he was a program – so what? JARVIS is at the root of _you_ ,” Sam pointed a finger at him. “The same guy who came back from the dead because he was smart enough to hide out in the internet, the same guy who protected those nuke codes, who told Tony Stark what to do, _that_ guy is you. You _are_ that strong.”

Vision’s skeptic air was not dissolved so easily. “The program that made me was strong. I am not.” He recited. “It is a simple fact of biology, Samuel. I cannot overcome the weaknesses of my own body by rebooting, by modifying my base code or increasing my bandwidth. Not anymore.” He sighed, trying to find a good way to articulate the differences between himself and JARVIS and the mind stone, differences that even he did not understand completely. “All of my short life, the mindstone’s power has let me exist under the delusion that I was greater than JARVIS, that I was something completely different, something unparalleled and… superior.” He used the term judiciously. He knew his worth, but he was not arrogant. “But without it… now I see that I was wrong. I am not greater than JARVIS. If anything, I am lesser than he, for now I experience hunger, and pain, and weariness, and crippling emotions that JARVIS would not… _does not_ know what to do with.” He glanced down at his hands, which he’d kept folded in his lap. “I have no control. I am weak. I no longer know who I am. What I am.”

Sam watched him, and recalled to mind a marine he’d mentored a few years ago. The man had been serving a second tour when he was caught in a landmine accident.  He’d survived the blast with a severe head injury, which caused him to suffer from profound amnesia for nearly a year after the fact. He was honorably discharged and sent home to D.C., where he started meeting with Sam regularly over the course of that almost-year. During their meetings, talking about identity and memory, the marine’s face had looked very similar to how Vision’s did right now: eyes big, brow tight, lips unevenly pinched as teeth clamped nervously on cheek. Hands wringing, trying to find that inner something that would solve the mind’s puzzles. Sam remembered the one thing that his medical colleagues had all told him was imperative to psychological recovery: time.

“What would JARVIS have done with that, do you think?” He asked curiously. Vision looked up.

“How do you mean?”

“When faced with an unknown like this. So you don’t know who you are. How do you find out? What would JARVIS’ protocols have said was the first step?”

Vision blinked, considering it. “I believe he would have run diagnostics,” he said eventually. “But I do not see how that will help me. I am no longer a computer to be tested and mended.”

“No. But there’s a reason why computer _diagnostics_ and medical _diagnoses_ use the same root word,” Sam smirked when Vision looked surprised. “Yeah, I know a thing or two. What I’m saying is: if you can figure out what makes you tick, what’s holding you back… you can start to figure out who you are. Just take steps toward that, and you’ll make progress.”

“Toward… what exactly, Mr. Wilson?”

“Toward Vision.”

Vision nodded very slowly. After a moment of thought, he asked: “And who do you think I will find?”

“I’m not sure,” Sam looked at him appraisingly. “But I can tell you he’s gonna like tea, the color green, have perfect handwriting, and be _hella_ strong.” He smiled.

Vision humored him with a hollow smile. “You think I am strong,” he commented, half flattered but half despair.

“You’ve never said or done anything to make me think otherwise,” said Sam.

“Not yet,” corrected the Vision, glancing up at his companion. “But that’s the trouble with diagnostics, you see. They are run on imperfect systems. Failure is assumed in the process. In a computer, a fix can be manufactured in seconds. In a human…” he trailed off, shaking his head. “I will fail your expectations eventually, Samuel. It is only a matter of time until this human experiment pushes me to my end. I will be everything _but_ strong, then, and I will not be whatever Vision you expect of me.”

“I wouldn’t speak so soon.” Sam nodded confidently. “When you find your weakness, there you’ll also find your strength. Trust me.”

Vision frowned in doubt, wanting to trust, but unable. Sam saw it and shrugged.

“You’ll understand when you’re older,” His teasing smile was taught, because he wasn’t actually kidding. “In the meantime, as a very _wise_ fish once taught me while I was babysitting my nephew,” he handed the journal back to Vision. “Just keep swimming.”

Vision frowned, sifting through his memory, which incidentally did not contain anything pertinent to Disney or Pixar. “I have never swam before,” he said seriously. Sam’s smile was cut short when his door cracked open.

“Knock knock,” Natasha said, peeking around the edge. Sam knew right away that she’d been listening in for a while, and had only been waiting for them to finish talking so that she could interrupt.

“What’s up?” He asked, deciding not to comment on her eavesdropping. Vision stood.

“Director Fury is here.” She looked at Vision. “He wants to see you especially, Red.” 

* * *

“Aliens descend from the sky and massacre my world, shame on them. Aliens descend from the sky and massacre my world _twice,_ shame on me.” Nicholas Fury turned his angry eye on the others with a sigh. “I’m getting real tired of playing the maid around this neck of the woods, and I gather I’m not the only one.”

“Tony’s already met with the mayor and negotiated a plan - We’re relocating as soon as Stark’s new bungalow is given the all-clear,” Clint put in. Fury glared.

“You’re damn right you are. You’d better be thanking your lucky stars Stark has a summer house in his back pocket or you’d _all_ be going underground.” He sighed, shaking his head as if still in denial over the whole affair. At times like this, Fury often found himself wondering why he even bothered at his job. He supposed it was because he didn’t trust his world to anyone else but himself. “But I’m not here to bring you a moving van – I’m _here_ because this week’s warmongering alien asshole stole an 0-8-4 from under my nose before I could even have a sniff at it. Speaking of which,” He glanced around, “Where is this _Vision_ of yours?”

“Right here, boss,” Natasha entered the conference room, Sam and Vision in tow. Fury stood up a little straighter, watching Vision move to a seat with an attentive eye. He’d been briefed on _what_ the Vision was, but of course he would only now be able to get a feel of _who_ he was.

“So,” The director put his hands on his hips, eye staring holes into Vision’s face, his arms, his forehead where the mind stone had been. “You’re the one that got away.”

Vision was rather uncomfortable in Fury’s scrutiny, but he hid it well. “If you say so, Director Fury. It’s nice to meet you, by the way,” He extended a hand politely. Nick’s eyebrow ticked upward. He stared at the hand, and did nothing. Vision lowered his hand awkwardly.

“As polite as they say,” He glanced at Clint, who shrugged. He looked back to Vision, dark eye still flashing like a predator staring down prey. “Agents Romanoff, Barton – Sam,” he glanced at Falcon. “D’you think you could give me a few minutes with your red friend here? I have a few questions for him.”

Vision wished distantly that they would leave at least _someone_ to stay with him, but the three dutifully stood and began filing out the door. As soon as the door clicked shut, the director gave Vision his full attention.

“So,” Fury pulled up a chair to lounge in sideways, letting his head lean forward intently toward Vision. “Let’s hear it from the horse’s mouth. What _is_ the Mind Stone, and what the hell happened to it?”

Vision’s browline rose. This was going to take a while.

* * *

“You told him all of that?” Wanda asked in a quiet tone of surprise. Vision had spent the last hour or so recounting to Wanda what he’d told Fury, starting with his birth and leading up to the present day. He shrugged.

“It seemed like the wise thing to do. He has never met me, and I understand why he might still be concerned about my presence. I think Director Fury has our best interests at heart, even if he is a bit… brusque.”

“Hmm,” hummed Wanda cryptically. Vision turned his head to look at her, face concerned.

“He does, does he not?” He looked back down at Fury, who paced beyond a windowed wall, hashing things out with Stark, Rogers, Barton, and Romanoff.  Vision and Wanda had been passing the time playing spectator from a darkened edge of a loft floor.

“Why do you ask me?”

“You can read him,” Vision said, leaning forward on the metal railings through which they’d hung their legs.  “I can’t. Not anymore.” Wanda glanced over at him. After only ever seeing him in his shimmery cape and suit, he still looked odd to her in a t-shirt and sweatpants. Even odder was the way he now propped his chin up on his arm, face squished into his elbow. He was _pouting._ Philosophically, of course, as he did everything, but still pouting.

“He is a determined man. And yes, I believe at heart he has the best intentions for the world. But he recognizes the pitfalls of trying to win everything.” She peered at the director below. She could not invade his mind without his knowing, but most people wore their thoughts outside of their skin whether they wanted to or not. She merely knew how to read them. “He is slow to trust. I’m not sure he trusts you yet,” She told Vision. He shrugged his shoulders.

“I don’t blame him. I don’t trust my own judgment anymore,” he said mildly. Wanda frowned at him. She hadn’t told Vision, but with or without the mind stone, he was one of the few people on earth whom she had trouble reading without digging deep.

“Why?” She asked.

“I can’t see anymore,” he told her, giving her a short glance before focusing again on Fury and the others. He had to rely on his limited knowledge of human body language and expression to interpret a scene he would have seen months ago in perfect clarity. He sighed at the effort, unused to frustration. “I used to see everything so clearly – almost like you. Orderly. Neat. Minds open and unhindered by deception.” He stared for several long beats, trying and failing to understand the humans below. He glanced away. “Now I’m blind.”

Wanda considered him sadly, remembering how innocent and pure he had been upon his birth, and how powerful. She lifted her legs from where they were pinned by the railings and scooted closer to him, putting her feet back through the bars right next to him. She slipped her arm through his and gave his elbow a pat. “Not for always,” she said reassuringly. She nodded toward the bickering agents and avengers below. “What do you want to know? I’ll tell you what I can.”

Vision looked at her hand when she’d taken his arm, and then in surprise at her face when she spoke. She squinted seriously down at their cohorts while he stared at her with unabashed admiration, but eventually he glanced down with her.

“Do they speak of me?”

“A little. They speak mostly of Thanos.”

Vision nodded, and stole another glance at her. “They search for a solution.”

“Yes.” She was silent for a beat. “They speak of preparations for another attack, of fortifying Stark’s new base.” She did not tell him how they asked each other how to protect Vision now that he was powerless. Vision guessed at it himself, but said nothing.

“Well,” He said, trying to muster some joviality – which was easier somehow with Wanda there. “I don’t suppose he’ll return looking for another infinity stone among our number.” He blinked a few times before turning to look at her teasingly. “Unless _you’ve_ hidden one somewhere,” He commented. She grinned.

“I left it in my other jacket, I’m afraid.” That made him smile suddenly, even as he turned his attention away. She snuck a long glance at his smile, which she’d only seen a few other times. It was a good smile. She held his arm more tightly.

They spoke quietly of SHIELD and Stark and Fury and mind reading for either minutes or hours. With her, Vision forgot that he couldn’t see like he once had.

He hadn’t realized they’d begun holding hands until she tugged on his and told him they ought to go eat dinner.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few things:
> 
> 1\. This is a longer chapter than usual, but I couldn't find a better place to cut it off.  
> 2\. I apologize in advance for my use of Slovak - the internet is my only source, so it could be complete rubbish for all I know.  
> 3\. This chapter is more emotional than usual, hopefully it's not over the top. I'm always scared of making emotional scenes too dramatic!  
> 4\. I made up some random names on the fly for people on TV - any resemblance to actual people is purely accidental and you can take it up with my imagination.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!

" _Hovno!"_ Vision heard Wanda hiss in a strained voice. He frowned slightly at her foul language, and peaked into the doorway.

"You missed three chances to take me down just now, and your left hook is sloppy." Natasha said from the ground floor of the training arena. She released Wanda, who fell to the floor, grasping her throat and breathing heavily. "Still," Said the agent, who looked like she was hardly breaking a sweat, "Not that bad. You need some more muscle on those arms before you take out anything bigger than a twig, but not bad. Keep working at the bag, we'll get you toned up. Now get up. We're not done."

Weeks ago, Wanda would have wanted to curse or maybe even cry, if she were tired enough, but now she just closed her eyes, took a breath, and made herself stand with burning arms. Natasha was quietly proud of her, but said nothing. "Right," said the Widow, waving for the Witch to follow her. "You been doing all those squats and lunges?"

"I could hardly stand up yesterday morning. Yes," groaned Wanda. Vision watched quietly from the doorway as she went to stand by where Natasha leaned casually against a human analog kickboxing bag, which glared at them angrily from chipped foam eyes.

Natasha sent her a wry grin. "Well that's good. Time to put them to use." She pushed herself up off the stand. "Chances are in the life an avenger, you'll be fighting men about one thousand times more often than you'll be fighting women. Which is good news for you."

"Is it?" Wanda wondered through heavy breathing, thinking about how much she hated boxing alongside Sam and Steve because they could match her punch with five of their own and leave her in the dust.

"That's Steve's biceps talking. You may have arms like a rat, but you're a girl; my bet is that you have thighs for days. You ever seen Rhodey try to kickbox his way out of a bag?"

Wanda frowned, wondering who would put the colonel in a bag. "No."

"Good. It's a sad show. The point is, guys are built for arms, and it's tempting for them to care about nothing but arms." This made Vision frown and glance down at his own arms. He'd never considered which part of his body was strongest. Then again, until recently, he hadn't had much need to. Below, Natasha was still talking:

"You and I were built with core, legs, and ass."  _Well that is true,_ said a small voice in the back of Vision's skull, for bizarre reasons he could not classify. He made himself focus again on what Natasha was saying. "So you want to avoid Sam's right hook, but he should want to avoid your roundhouse kick." To emphasize her point, Natasha paused long enough to roundhouse kick the bag in its face. It fell over with a thud and Natasha continued on as if nothing had happened. "So we'll keep working on your arms until you can give Tony a KO, but  _this_ is going to be your bread and butter." She bent and hauled the bag up onto its stand. "Bruce here is going to help you practice."

Natasha frowned at the bag. "Bruce…?" She asked, trying to remember if Natasha and Bruce were still together or not. Natasha's face was disconcertingly expressionless.

"I name them sometimes," She said, face still clear. She turned around and gave Bruce a heel to the spleen.

"This'll be your first move. You want to try?"

Vision was no longer hiding behind the doorway, now standing on the second-story balcony leaning against the railing, fixated on Natasha's instructions as Wanda slowly got the hang of the kick. He was taking mental notes, wondering if  _he_  could learn to fight like Natasha, wondering how strong  _his_ arms and legs were. His conversation with Falcon about strength had been plaguing him for days, and he now found himself wondering if learning to fight would help improve his chances of living up to Sam's expectations.

"If you're here for a peep show I'll name the next one after you, Vision," warned Natasha as she kicked Bruce in the side. She gave a quiet instruction to Wanda to follow her example, and turned to look up at the synthezoid.

"I apologize," Vision said, shaking off the trance of watching. "I overheard you talking, and thought I'd…" thought he'd  _what?_ Natasha crossed her arms skeptically, so he continued, "I have never learned how to fight properly with this body, particularly after I um…" he fiddled with his fingers. "I was merely curious. Pardon my intrusion." He turned away, but Natasha sighed and called back,

"Well if you want to tag along, come down here. You're not a vulture."

So Vision joined them on the arena floor and watched while Wanda and Natasha wounded the ever-resilient Bruce beyond human limits. Natasha was upfront and knowledgeable about which organs to go after, how to feign a punch and rebound with a kick, how to cuff and ear with your heel and why flexibility was key. Wanda was mediocre at best, but Natasha's face betrayed no doubt or condescension, so she kept going.

Occasionally, Natasha would watch Vision while Wanda went through a sequence, trying to read his intense expression. At one point, Wanda kicked Bruce directly in the groin (on accident, as it happened) and Vision flinched visibly. Natasha barely held back her surprised smile – well, that answered  _that_ question.

When Wanda's legs started shaking and the sweat got into her eyes, Natasha began counting slowly. When she reached one hundred, she took mercy. "Take a break, Maximoff," She said, and Wanda looked fit to collapse, her ponytail frizzed and face red. "Get some water."

As Wanda shuffled off toward the water cooler, Natasha turned to Vision. "You want to have a go, Red?"

Vision looked vaguely surprised, but took up the offer. He almost fell over the first time he tried to kick the stand, but rebounded quickly for a second try.

In the course of a half hour (a god-send respite for Wanda, who was lying on the floor under a fan) Vision managed to convince himself of two things: he was not entirely horrible at kick-boxing, and he had a very long way to go before he would be any  _good_ at kick-boxing.

"You got muscle, but next to no coordination," Natasha surmised, glancing back at Wanda, who seemed happily checked-out of practice. "You and Maximoff would make a good team – between the two of you, I might have a decent fighter on my hands. Get up, Hermione, I want to see your footwork."

" _Hovno…_ " Wanda breathed, moving stiffly to stand.

"Whiner," Natasha smiled, and gave Vision's bicep a pat. "Tell Friday to set you up a bag in the boxing room, we can put those guns to use. I'll tell Cap to give you a primer."

"Of course." Vision did not try to ask for clarification on her use of the word 'guns'. As a tired looking Wanda came near, Vision gave her a gentlemanly nod. "Good luck, Miss Maximoff. Thank you for letting me join your session. It has been most educational." He gave them both a smile and turned toward the door. Just as the door was sliding shut, he could hear Natasha say,

"Hey, eyes back over here. I'm here to help you kick ass, not look at it. Show me what you got."

* * *

His training with Steve was refreshingly enjoyable for Vision. Despite the fact that he had never exercised (as such) in his life, Vision found that he did not easily grow sore or tired. It took only a few sessions for him to learn how to outlast both Rhodes and Tony on the punching bag as well as the track. Sam kept up with him most often, and of course Steve was his instructor.

Vision also did not sweat; according to Dr. Cho, this was likely due to the vibranium in his tissues wicking excess heat as they did vibrations and muscle friction. It not only gave Vision's body exceptional strength, but also exceptional stamina. He had no sweat glands because he had no need of them.

"Now that just ain't fair," Said a sweat-drenched Sam one day after training, mopping his forehead with a towel and dumping water over his head. Vision, as dry as he'd ever been, looked apologetic as he wrote in his journal from the locker room bench.

"Life's not fair," Said Tony, equally as sweaty as Sam, holding a martini. "Anyone who says differently is selling something."

"Princess Bride," Steve said, pointing like it were a race. He was not nearly as tired as the others. They looked at him with expressions ranging from amused to unimpressed. "I got that reference," He said quietly. Tony smirked and took a sip of his cocktail.

"Is that a good idea?" asked Rhodes.

"It's a power drink," Tony said, plucking out the toothpick with the olive attached. "Look, I put protein power on it and everything."

While Rhodey and Tony dissolved into one of their bickering sessions, Sam and Steve rolled their eyes and opened a discussion of what movie they should watch that week – had Steve seen all of the Star Wars movies yet? Vision journaled quietly in the buzz of conversation around him.

 _I still do not believe that I am strong,_ he wrote, and paused to consider the wording of his next line. He glanced up at the men around him who had been so complementary of his budding fighting skills these past weeks. He turned his eyes back to his penmanship.  _But I am beginning to learn that with time, I might be a little stronger than I am right now._

And learning that was enough to raise his spirits considerably.

* * *

Naturally, Vision's high spirits were not destined to last. It was only the next evening when Vision walked into the lounge to find the others gathered around a large screen, news footage reflecting in the darkened windows. They did not turn to see him, so he kept quiet as he came up behind the couch to watch.

" _-reporting damages in the millions, if not billions, with the worst hit areas situated nearest to the Avengers headquarters, the former Stark Tower. The aftermath of the most recent alien attack on Manhattan has left hundreds of civilians homeless and without work, and shelters as far as Vermont are filling up with refugees claiming to be from the affected areas."_ The cameras panned over heaps of warped metal and glass, concrete dust still sticking to piles of totaled cars that the clean up crews hadn't been able to reach.

The feed cut to a silent clip of Tony Stark speaking at a press conference the previous week. " _New York Senators along with the city Mayor are pressuring Congress and the Secretary of Defense to press charges against Stark Industries and the Avengers for the damage caused."_

"The hell they are," interrupted Tony. "I haven't heard a whisper about that – Pepper?"

"I haven't handled anything about formal charges," She said, already scrolling through her phone. "I'll make some calls." She stood and excused herself from the room. The others' eyes stayed glued to the screen.

" _Although Stark Industries was quick to announce its role in the cleanup initiative, some say Tony 'Iron Man' Stark's corporately funded relief effort is too little too late. For more on this story, we go back to our studio live with reporter Ian Sanchez. Ian?"_

" _Jocelyn, as you've said already, the Avengers seem to be at the crux of this month's invasion from the alien whom authorities are calling 'Thanos', and while Avengers supporters say this has been a repeat victory for the New York City-based superhero team, some are saying that the Avengers have outlived their welcome in Manhattan. Here to discuss are Lawyer Suzanne Martin and writer-Avengers expert Matt Reeling. Suzanne, what do you have to say about the Avengers and the recent attack?"_

Suzanne gave a small eye roll, holding out her hands in a shrug.  _"Where do I even start? These past few weeks have been one blunder after the other for the so called 'heroes' at Stark Tower. Their presence in New York was kept a secret for months after the First Battle of Manhattan – I wish I didn't have to call it the 'first' – and now we all know why. The Avengers not only attract trouble, they attract direct attacks to their home which, as they've so inconsiderately decided, is New York City."_

" _And what would you suggest as a next move, Suzanne?"_

" _Get the Avengers out and make them pay,"_ The blonde shook her head.  _"Anything less would be unjust."_

The dark-skinned man in the panel next to her, wearing a sports jacket over a Captain America t-shirt, was shaking his head.

" _Matt, I see you shaking your head – thoughts?"_ Ian took a breath and gave a serious nod.

" _First of all, the Avengers are not the attackers here – Thanos is. Second of all, I think we're forgetting the fact that the same heroes we've kicked into the doghouse saved not only New York, but the entire world just a few years ago. If you – Ms. Martin, if you want to persecute the Avengers, I'd say you need to go about it carefully, because we need them, and cannot afford to push them underground just yet."_

" _We need them?"_ Suzanne burst.  _"We wouldn't need them at all if they weren't around to draw this 'Thanos' down from whatever alien world he hails from – for all we know, he could come back tomorrow, thanks to them."_

Ian leapt on a short pause to say,  _"As I'm sure both of you know, the cause for Thanos' attack is of yet unknown. However, there are many conflicting theories circulating online – including some who say the Avengers themselves were the target of the attack."_

Suzanne jumped on the prompt first.  _"That is right, Ian, and I have to say that I completely agree with the theory that the Avengers were the target – which just goes to show you, if they had shacked up elsewhere, anywhere besides a metropolitan center like New York, we wouldn't be seeing the kind of terrible damages that have New York reeling for the second time this decade."_

" _Okay, even – Even if the Avengers were Thanos' target, that doesn't change the fact that they are not the aggressors of this event,"_ cut in Matt angrily.  _"If anything, the Avengers were as much of victims as we are-"_

" _Victims?"_ Suzanne burst,  _"The Avengers escaped without so much of a broken window, I'd say they are anything but victims here."_

" _Well you haven't been paying close enough attention then,"_ Said Matt, " _Because I know at least one of the Avengers barely got away with his life. The newest member of the team, the synthezoid that they're calling 'The Vision" suffered massive injuries while trying to defend a civilian center from Thanos himself."_

" _John, can we have the pictures on that?"_ Ian said to someone off screen. Two images appeared on the screen, one of Vision during a TV interview several months before, and one grainier picture that must have been taken just days ago, with a tired-looking Vision standing on the balcony wearing sweats and an old t-shirt. Vision's heart leapt into his throat.

"The hell did they get that picture?" Clint burst, looking out the windows as if he'd see a camera lens somewhere.

"Paparazzi, man," Tony said solemnly, looking at the screen. "They always find a way."

" _You can see the difference here – most obviously, the gem, the uh 'solar gem' or so we call it, in his head, it's what gives him his power, and it's gone completely in the second picture. We've also seen amateur footage surface online of Thanos attacking The Vision – going for his head, presumably for the solar gem itself."_

" _John?"_ Ian cued again. When the shaky phone video came onto screen and Vision realized what it was, he felt sick. His heart was racing, and he wanted to look away, but he couldn't. On the screen, a distant and poorly focused Thanos grabbed for Vision's head, his other hand around Vision's neck. The caped hero struggled in vain, ultimately allowing Thanos to tear the gem from his head in a bloody mass. The resulting shockwave knocked the camera out of view, and the video ended. Still unable to look away, Vision blinked, trying to make the memory fade, trying to not see and re-see the event from both angles again and again. It didn't work.

" _The Vision was harmed in this attack – injured badly enough that it took his power source from him. If you want to argue that the Avengers got away scot free, Ms. Martin, think again."_

" _I've seen that video, Matt, and I agree that the Vision was attacked by Thanos – but I also know that it was mere minutes after this fight between Thanos and Vision that Thanos left New York entirely: it just strengthens the point I've been trying to make clear: The Avengers were the target. The Avengers are to blame for this attack, and the Avengers should no longer be welcome in New York. The Vision is what drew Thanos to earth in the first place, and I'd say that he should be the first one to be shipped off as far away as possib-"_

The TV shut off. "That's enough of that," Tony snapped, tossing the remote away. The group was silent, some sighing and rubbing their faces. Helen Cho was the one who saw Vision first.

"Vision," She said in surprise. The others turned to look as well, realizing what he must have seen. Helen's expression fell even further when she saw the shocked, immobile expression on Vision's face. "Oh no – that," she glanced between the dark TV and Vision. "Vision, I'm so sorry, we didn't see you… are you alright?"

"Don't listen to that crap," Sam put in. "they don't know what they're talking about."

"From the sound of it," Vision said calmly, and only calmly because he had never tried to manage any other tone. Even as he wished he could manage another tone, he couldn't. "they know exactly what they are talking about." He still stared into the dark TV screen, brow confused, eyes wide. The others were saying things gently to him, probably to comfort or encourage him, but he did not hear. He heard his heart beating in his ears, which he couldn't slow down, he heard voices in his head, repeats from the newscasters, he heard the blast from Thanos attack, the growls and insults of his attacker, he heard an explosion and the screams of an angry mob that approached to carry him off as far away as possib-"

"Dinner," smiled Wanda shakily. "I'm sure we could all use a break from…" she glanced at the TV, and at Vision. "I'll get the plates ready," she said, standing and heading for the hall. The others followed suit in quiet grumbles. Sam lagged behind and came up next to Vision.

"You alright?" He asked, peering into the synthezoid's eyes.

"I am unsure," replied Vision, and hesitated. He realized that Sam was concerned, but he also realized that even if he felt like he was being tossed form his internal railings, there was little that Sam could do about his racing heart and screaming brain. "I will be fine," He decided out loud, even if it were a lie. He took long strides toward the kitchen, which Sam leaped to catch up with.

"If you say so," Said the soldier uncertainly.

After a half hour or so rushing about the kitchen to prepare a dinner for eleven people, they finally all sat down with plates of steaming, sloppily-prepared spaghetti.

Wanda was the one to notice. "Where is Vision?" She asked, because the seat next to her was empty. They all looked around, frowning. Tony shrugged, glancing into the kitchen.

"Viz? You hungry or not, bro? I'll eat your breadsticks, don't think I won't." He looked more concerned than he sounded.

Nothing.

Wanda glanced at Helen, who was seated directly across from her. Helen nodded subtly, and Wanda rose to her feet.

"I'm sure he's just tired," She said, even though the entire table would see through the lie. "I'll take this," She heaved up his plate and a few breadsticks (which Tony handed her without complaint). Giving a small smile, she walked toward the hall to the bedroom suites, leaving the others to eat in relative silence, all worried but unable to do anything but eat their dinner and wait.

* * *

"Vision?" She knocked quietly. "Are you alright? I brought your dinner." She knocked again. When no one answered, she pressed on the door gently. "I'm coming in, I hope you're decent." She opened the door. The room was dark, and she did not see him at first, but he turned his head to look at her and she caught the metallic glint of his ears in the dim light from the window. She turned on a lamp and set his dinner on the bedside table. He was sitting on the floor on the far side of his bed, legs crossed and back hunched, staring out of the window. She came over to him, tucking her hair behind her ears so it didn't fall in her face when she bent over slightly.

"Your dinner will get cold," she said. He was not looking at her. "Are you alright?"

"I do not know," he said in a small voice, in a tone she'd never heard from him. He glanced up at her with lost eyes. "Could you tell me?"

"Tell you what?" she asked, frowning.

"You see my mind more clearly than I do. I do not know what is happening to me," Vision told her. "The news… and that lawyer, the things she said…"

"She doesn't know what she's talking about," Said Wanda, now kneeling next to Vision to be on his eye level. "She doesn't even  _know_ you,"

"No, none of them do," Vision turned to face her. "But that's… that's just it, Wanda," she was frowning at him, because she'd never heard him like this, so alarmed, so emotional. "They do not know me, but they condemn me. I do not know them, and I desire nothing but their safety. I cannot comprehend having brought this ruin down upon them, and now they…" he paused, and she wasn't sure if he were thinking or choking back something.

"You are upset," Wanda said, scooting closer to him and taking his hand. He had done the same for her when she was grieving, she hoped it would calm him. But it was almost as if he didn't notice her at all.

"They blame me for Thanos' rage. Are they right? Are they right in thinking that I have failed? Failed in preserving life, preserving even my own life? That I was the reason that…" he paused again, throat bobbing, and Wanda realized what was about to happen moments before it started happening. "Why does…" Vision gestured vaguely to his throat and head, eventually grasping his shirt near his heart as his breaths became halted and sharp, "why does it hurt?" his voice as muddled deeper than usual by the sobs he didn't know how to let out. "Why won't my heart stop racing? Why can't I…" He sighed out what was probably a sob he couldn't understand, "why can't I get it out of my head? Why are human emotions so ridiculous?" He finally let out a grunt of a sob, and Wanda took his hand in both of hers, now.

"Vision, listen to me, you need to calm down, just breathe, you'll be fine, just breathe and listen to me,"

"I don't understand, I don't understand," He was saying even as tears fell down his red face. He wiped them away in confusion and fear. "I don't  _understand."_

"Just… relax and take a breath, you'll be alright, just…" Wanda realized then that he could not hear a word she said. She threw her words to the wind and reached out for him, pulling him closer to her. This he seemed to understand, and wrapped one arm around her shoulders so her face was pressed into his shoulder, his face in the collar of her shirt, back moving jerkily as he tried and failed to contain himself. His other hand he put to his face in embarrassment, as if by covering his eyes he could stop the tears. She rubbed his back and held his head against her gently, like she remembered her brother doing for her years ago, after their parents had passed.

"Shhh,  _Všetko bude v poriadku,_ " She rubbed his back, "Všetko bude v poriadku, sľubujem, to bude v poriadku." She did not know if he could understand her, but after a while, he quieted against her shoulder, sniffing and wiping at his face.

"I'm sorry, Miss Maximoff," he mumbled into her shirt, and withdrew from her. He looked in a terrible state, far from the perfect, otherworldly being he'd been weeks ago. "I do not know what has overcome me." He didn't mention that a sliver of it was still there, picking at his heart.

"You are upset, and rightly so. It is nothing to be ashamed of."

"I do not wish to keep you, please return to the others. They will wonder where you've gone."

"They know you are upset. I'm not leaving until I know you will not be so forever."

He glanced at her, not sure whether he was touched or annoyed that she wished to stay. She took his hand in hers once more. Maybe it was both, he thought. Maybe he was more grateful, though. He let her stroke his hand and sit with him silently, occasionally telling him that he had not failed, reminding him that he was still him. He wasn't sure if he believed it all, but she made it sound sweet and comforting, and maybe that was what his human body needed most in that moment. His eyes began drifting shut, and Wanda quietly got him to stand so he could get into bed. His heart leaped back into alarm when she let go of his hand, and he opened his eyes to see where she was, but she was only turning out the lamp. She sat upright on the covers next to him, taking his hand up again. He looked at it guiltily.

"Miss Maximoff, you oughtn't stay here on my behalf. You should go."

"I'm not leaving," she said, because she saw his distraught mind and knew he would work himself into another fit if she left. "Now go to sleep, you'll feel better in the morning."

In the morning, he would feel better. But before he could wake to find it so, Pepper would come by with a specially prepared breakfast for him. Then, she would have to return with a second tray because Wanda was there too, still dressed shoes and all, curled up on the covers next to him.


	7. Chapter 7

And so, the reporters reported and the haters hated and the controversy that was the Avengers' former glory writhed across international news channels in twenty-six languages and enough primetime coverage to make Tony to establish a nightly game of poker just so he could ignore it. Vision discovered crying and how to hide it, and Wanda learned that she could hold his hand in public and not care when the others stared. Vision continued to write in his journal and Sam continued to read it. Vision did his best to balance the feelings of strength and inadequacy in a way that Falcon insisted was human.

Through it all, life continued rolling on.

Stark spent almost every morning arguing with contractors and city officials as the inspection date for his upstate mansion grew near. He always ended his daily phone call by cursing, but the others knew it was progress. Pepper had her ear to a phone even more than Tony did, trying to negotiate the relocation of Stark's belongings. Boxes appeared on their doorstep almost instantaneously one day, and each in their turn the avengers began packing up their belongings with bubble wrap and packaging tape.

Vision had few personal belongings beyond t shirts and sweatpants, so he spent most of his free time helping Dr. Cho pack up the priceless medical equipment from the lab – some of which had saved his life and some of which had brought it to being.

"It is curious," He said in a fond way, looking around at the bare glass and metal walls when they were done. "It looks so much different without everything here."

"I'm sure the lab at Tony's new place will be even better than this one," Helen said, almost wistfully. "He's built it with Dr. Banner and I in mind, apparently – commissioned an entirely new regeneration cradle, too."

"Yes… but it won't be the same," Replied Vision, glancing around at the worn floors and odd chips in the painted ceiling. Helen frowned, looking over to him.

"I didn't realize you were the sentimental type," She meant it as an honest observation, and the synthezoid understood. He shrugged.

"I've never wondered if I should be. But…" he paused, breathing in a lungful of familiar air and letting it out again. "I  _was_  born here." He looked around to the spot where he'd stood for the first time, where Thor had glared at him, where he'd flown across the room and very nearly into a window. Where he'd seen a physical reflection that was  _him._ The smells were all the same – but now the sights were not. He turned and smiled at Dr. Cho, who was looking at him in an almost motherly way. He looked at the heavy crate in her arms. "Let me help you with that," he said, and they left the empty room together.

* * *

"Last night in the old place, how d'you want to spend it?" Asked Hawkeye as he stirred lime into his second moscow mule of the evening.

"Tipsy, blasting some 80s classics," replied Tony, even though the question had been directed at Natasha. The widow turned with her beer in hand and gave Stark a smirk.

"Isn't that how you spend most of your nights?"

"If you had a point in there somewhere I don't see it."

"Well, if you're looking for something special, Stark's been holding onto that '41 Krug for a while," said Steve from the couch. "If memory serves, that was a pretty good year."

Tony turned to give him a halfhearted glare. "You  _would_  pull the grandpa card to pour my money in your glass. Friday, be a doll, get me a few flutes and a bottle to match."

" _Of course, Boss. Shall I cue up your Guns N' Roses playlist as well?"_ To everyone's surprise, Tony made a face and eventually shook his head.

"You know what?" He glanced at Steve. "I think Pepper has a swing mix somewhere in there."

" _I was unaware that you enjoyed 40s jazz, sir,"_ Said Friday as a lively drumbeat floated down from the speakers. Tony shrugged, hiding a smile.

"Yeah, well," He rose to meet the tray of champagne and stemware that appeared from a dumbwaiter. "Captain's choice."

"I chose the wine, not the tunes," Steve defended.

"Inspired, then," said Tony, twisting off the cork with a pop. "Come on, we all know you love it."

"I know  _I_ do," smiled Natasha, who'd taken their special evening to curl her hair and don red lipstick appropriate for the music. "Come on, Cap, let's see those East Coast steps of yours." She laced her fingers through his and yanked him to his feet. Still protesting but smiling widely, Steve stepped into a swing step with her, as natural a dancer as there ever was. The rest all smiled and cheered, and Clint helped Sam push the couches to clear the floor.

"You ever part of a swing band back in the stone age, Cap?" Tony asked, handing Bruce a glass of champagne.

"Never got the chance," quipped Steve, giving Natasha a spin. "I don't think I have the mind for music," he said.

"You got the feet for it," smiled his partner as she leaped, getting him to swing her around him off the ground. She found her footing and jumped back into the beat.

"Alright, now you're just showing off," said Rhodes, setting his drink aside. He took the hand of a reluctant Dr. Cho and stepped onto the floor. He had limited experience with swing dancing, but stumbled through what he knew with attempted (and minimal) grace. Helen laughed at his efforts, looking to Natasha's confident step for guidance.

"You know swing dancing?" Sam came up to Wanda, who was grinning on the sidelines next to Clint.

"I can't say that I do."

"It's fun. I wager you'd be pretty good at it." And of course Sam had one of those smiles, so she shrugged and gave him her hand. He showed her the basic step and they found a beat. He taught her how to spin and she laughed through the first three and the steps after. Where neither of them saw, the sound made Vision smile widely.

"Cap's still winning the race for best footwork, fellas," reported Clint from behind his flute, "you all stink."

"Old man's got the head start," said Tony from the bar, "Can't hold it against them. Pepper, let's show him how it's done." Tony smiled and Pepper rolled her eyes but slipped off her heels and took his hand anyway.

After the first song ended and faded into a new introduction, Sam led Wanda to the side of the room where Vision stood.

"Your turn, loverboy," he said, putting Wanda's hand in Vision's.

"I apologize," Vision said, looking perplexed first at Wanda's hand in his and then at Sam. "I do not know how to dance."

"I only just learned - It's easy, I'll show you how," smiled Wanda in that kind, deep voice of hers. Vision smiled at her, but insisted to Sam,

"Mr. Wilson, I really do not think-"

"Oh no, my hands are full," Sam lamented as he scooped up a glass of champagne. "And the girls are outnumbered two to one here – it'd really be rude to leave her hanging, you know," He made eyebrows at Vision above the rim of his glass. He grunted appreciatively and looked past them to Steve.

"This  _is_ a good year, Cap, why didn't we break this open sooner?" he asked. Steve smiled over Natasha's hair.

"That's a question for Stark. There an extra glass over there?"

"Mmhmm. Dancing and drinking," Sam shook his head, grabbing another flute with his free hand and going over to Steve. "irresponsible – you should be ashamed of yourself," an accusation which made Steve laugh.

Wanda squeezed Vision's hand and gave him a smile before tugging him onto the clear floor. "Come on, I'll show you." And that was how Vision learned to dance: hands holding onto Wanda's for support, spying over her shoulder at Steve's confident step, looking down too much to make sure that he didn't step on her toes and looking behind himself so he didn't run into anyone else.

"I do not think I am meant to dance," he said at one point, after he'd hit Wanda three times and nearly knocked her over.

"I do not think you've been dancing long enough to say. Look up at me, watching the floor makes it worse." He did as she said, and he made it through three whole steps without tripping. "There, that wasn't so bad, was it?" Wanda's smile was so genuine now in the thrill of movement, and he thought he'd never seen her so openly happy, not after Pietro.

"Yes," he agreed, and wished he'd had his mind stone back if only so he could see her thoughts.

"Careful!" She tugged him away from where he'd almost run into Pepper, and his thoughts interrupted themselves.

"Perhaps I spoke too soon," He said bashfully.

"You're doing great, Red," Natasha smiled at him suavely, and winked at Wanda.

The music faded and the ones not dancing clapped. As the third song cued up, Natasha swapped out Steve for Clint, and Dr. Cho left to share a drink with Bruce. Wanda looked up at Vision.

"You want to take a break?" She asked, interpreting his silence as discomfort.

"Actually, miss Maximoff," he said, reaching for her hand again, "If it would not infringe upon you, I think I might like to try dancing a second time. In cases such as this, I believe the saying goes, 'practice makes perfect'."

She nodded with a tiny grin to hide her amusement at his propriety. She took his other hand in hers. "Of course."

They were the last ones to leave the floor.

By the end of the night, they had devolved into a haphazard lounge of tipsy, tired friends. "Better get some sleep," said Steve (one of the few left still sober) at the end of the evening. Rhodes was already asleep, as was Bruce – though Bruce had had the forethought to make it to his bed first. "We have a big day tomorrow.

Vision found that despite his excuse of sobriety, he could sympathize with the others' fatigue. He was grateful for the chance to relax when he bid them all goodnight and entered the serene dark of his bedroom. As he drifted off to sleep, he could still hear the swing bands playing softly in his ear, harmonizing with Wanda's laughter.

* * *

If Vision had spent more of his life learning the routine and ambiance of sleep, he would have been bothered by how bare and echo-y his room was following the moving-day build up. But Vision was an old soul in a very young body who'd only been utilizing the ritual of sleep for about a month. So with all his clothes packed away and most the furniture gone, he slept just as soundly as he had in the weeks previous - once he actually fell asleep, anyway - which is to say that he took on the appearance and manner of a coma patient.

Blankets smooth, breaths even, arms straight out at his sides much like they'd been when the cradle had pieced his body together, Vision lay like a statue. If Tony had been able to see how his former butler slept, he would have made Sleeping Beauty jokes. Then, Pepper would have appeared to remind him that he was thinking of Snow White, not Sleeping Beauty, and the two would quibble loudly enough to wake Vision from his slumber and effectively ruin both similes. But since neither the billionaire nor his CEO were present, Vision slept on peacefully.

However, as anyone else might have, Vision did break face to wake up when someone put a cold, firm hand on his shoulder. He reactively began to ask who was there, but the hand jerked in alarm and slapped over his nose and mouth. He struggled and reached a groggy but firm hand up to snatch the as-of-yet unseen attacker away from his face, but they leaned against him, pressing his skull back into the bed so hard that he accidentally bit the palm over his mouth.

"Ow!" Hissed a quiet voice. "Night night! Night night nightnightnight!" whispered the same voice urgently. It was a feminine voice, sporting an accent not dissimilar to his own. As his eyes began to adjust in the darkness, he realized that there was another figure standing behind his attacker. It held out something with a blue light on it. Something stabbed into his neck. He was already so groggy he didn't realize that it was putting him back asleep. Before he was gone, he heard a nervous male voice say,

"Well that was easy." He would remember in his dreams that  _this_  accent was called 'brogue' and reminded him of Friday.

* * *

When Vision awoke, he was sitting upright in a chair in an empty room. Upon a second inspection, he realized that it wasn't entirely empty. There was a desk, and a chair, and a potted plant for some reason. There was also a suit-clad man in the aforesaid chair, fingering his way through a book of some kind… an autobiography? Vision found himself groggily tilting his head to get a better look at the title.

"Oh good, you're awake." The man looked up and snapped his book shut on a bookmark. "I just finished a chapter anyway." He put it away and let Vision forever wonder what he'd been reading. He folded his hands and smiled at Vision in a way both pleasant and unsettling for reasons undefined. He seemed to read Vision's drowsy apprehension, and communicated an apology through a small tick of the head. "Sorry about the fuss. You were supposed to be conscious for all of this. You scared my team and I'm afraid they kind of… panicked."

"Oh," Said Vision, glancing around himself. He wasn't bound in any way, and his seat was comfortable. There was even a folded blanket draped over one arm of his chair waiting to swaddle him should he feel the need for comfort. He brushed his fingers over his neck where he'd felt he'd been shot, but there was no scar or wound to feel. He couldn't imagine what he'd done to frighten someone while only partially awake, but now amid these unhostile surroundings, he felt somehow guilty for making his kidnapping a bother. "I'm… sorry about that," He said, slightly confused as to why he did. The man smiled a bit wider, but only a bit.

"Fury was right, you  _do_ sound like JARVIS," he said, pouring himself a glass of water.

"I should think that I do. You know Nicholas Fury?" Vision peered at the man. Something about him seemed eerily familiar.

The man smiled to hear the Director's full name. "We're friends. He's my boss. Said I ought to talk with you. Say hi, chat, ask about the Thanos fiasco, you know, the normal stuff. Do you want some water, orange juice, coffee?"

"Water would be nice," Vision admitted, and wondered if the sedative they'd used on him caused drymouth. "I have already spoken with Mr. Fury regarding Thanos' attack – and the mind stone, I might add. I do not understand why a secondary meeting requires my abduction in the dead of night."

"Understandable. I really am sorry about that." The man slid a glass of water across the table. "The secrecy is my fault. I'm not an easy to guy to get a hold of, being dead and all." Vision frowned slightly at the comment, focusing again on the man's face. He  _swore_ he recognized him from somewhere. Had JARVIS known this man?

"How do you mean?"

"I was dead, now I'm not, but only a few people know that. Like to keep it that way, too, so lips sealed around the Avengers until further notice," he warned.

Vision nodded slowly, turning this information over in his mind like a key through tumblers that may or may not click open. "Why make an exception for me?"

"Dying and coming back…" The man shrugged casually, even though his face betrayed his deeper feeling, "It's not an everyday thing. I think you understand."

Vision squinted again, turning his mental key in the lock carefully. Almost unexpectedly, it clicked open. "You are SHIELD Agent Phil Coulson," he said. Coulson smiled.

"And you're the Vision, Ultron's best laid plans gone awry." Coulson extended his hand, and Vision shook it gratefully, thinking about how much bigger and more human Coulson appeared in person than on a screen in JARVIS' security servers. "I've been looking forward to meeting you, it's an honor."

"I assure you, Agent Coulson, the pleasure is all mine," Vision smiled back, face full of genuine delight. "Like Mr. Stark, Captain Rogers and the rest of the avengers, JARVIS was highly disturbed to hear about your death, and I feel his relief." Vision missed the look of touched surprise on Coulson's face when he mentioned Steve, "however did you manage to come back?"

"How did you?" Coulson reflected the question back. "Mad scientists. They're cropping up everywhere these days. I'd like to talk about it with you some time, compare notes, swap stories and all. But that's not actually the main reason you're here."

Vision nodded, glancing around the windowless room and wondering what time it was. "Why am I here, then?"

"You have a visitor – a close friend of mine, actually. She has a few ideas that I think you might want to hear." Coulson said. He glanced up at the security camera in one corner. "Send her in."

Moments later, footsteps sounded outside of the door, and the latch began to shift. Vision straightened up at the sound, watching. Coulson glanced at Vision's face, gauging his reaction. The door swung open to reveal a tall, powerful brunette. She stepped through the door, eyes settling on Vision's face. Her armor was as otherworldly as the sword at her hip, and Vision knew before she said anything who she was.

"Vision, this is Lady Sif of Asgard," Said Coulson calmly, glancing between the two like they were kids on a playdate rather than demigods and mutant-androids meeting in a super-secret government facility. "Lady Sif, this is Vision, the one I was telling you about."

"The one worthy of Mjolnir's grip," said Sif in half awe, half appraisal. She reached out a hand. Vision took it and shook it firmly.

"And the woman worthy of matching it in might," he said, eyes wise with the dreams he'd seen. "Or so the mind gem has told me."

It was the only time that Coulson would ever see Sif look  _bashful._ She recovered quickly and gave a solid, smiling nod. "A fair meeting, master Vision." She glanced at Coulson, who gave her a punctual nod. Sif looked back to Vision, eyes bright with determination and spirit. "But the night is short, and you and I have much to discuss. Walk with me."


	8. Chapter 8

Vision was aware that Sif found his silence disconcerting, but his social graces were not what they usually were; his thoughts were far too preoccupied. Even if he had had the mind stone, he doubted he would have been able to fully comprehend the scope of what Sif was suggesting.

"What you propose is not possible," Vision said at length. He looked up to Sif, who sat across the table beside Coulson in the dull grey break room.

"With all due respect, master Vision, there is no one in the nine realms who could say whether or not it is possible." She gave him a pointed looked. "You are unprecedented."

Vision pursed his lips, unable to admit that the novelty of his existence was wearing thin on his conscience. "Yes." He said, looking down at the steaming cup of tea that had been set in front of him some time ago. Briefly his mind strayed to the excitable Englishwoman who had prepared it for him; she was scatterbrained and acted somewhat like the ladies Mr. Stark referred to as 'fangirls', but she was also intelligent and kind. She had been beside herself with glee to meet Vision, and apologize for his abduction, and express that she had every faith in him.

Every faith. Humans were odd. Did they not realize that he was not worthy of all that? But Sif wasn't human. She was Asgardian, which somehow was even worse. Vision did not know what to think of her delusion.

"Are you at least willing to try?" Sif asked. Coulson, silent as he'd been for nearly an hour, glanced expectantly at Vision.

Vision gathered his thoughts. "It is not a matter of whether or not I am willing, milady, but whether it will work. And I can tell you right now that it will not."

"You can't tell me that for certain."

"I could have."

"Well you can't  _now_."

Vision felt his jaw and neck stiffen angrily at the suggestion, but could find nothing to say in reply. The truth was, he was afraid to find out if it would work. Perhaps it would, perhaps he could manage it, but would he be strong enough to make it count? Sif seemed to understand his reservations, but she remained stubborn. Her gaze begged to be met, and though he didn't want to, Vision found himself staring into her steely eyes. They held him there as she said,

"You may not have the mind stone with you now, but its power is unfathomable. You were born into that power, and that is far more than Thanos will ever have within his grasp." As Sif stared unblinkingly at him, Vision was reminded of the fact that she had trained some of Asgard's most formidable warriors. "Regardless of the mind stone's long history, it is your birthright, and you are its heir. If I am right, you have retained far more of your powers than you perceive. With training, I can help you master them once more."

Vision knew that he would relinquish this argument to Lady Sif before long. Still, he would not do so quietly. "You are asking a blind man to fly a aeroplane," he analogized dryly.

"I am asking a recently blinded world-class pilot to fly an aeroplane – and not without help." Sif retorted. Vision pursed his lips and looked away. "It will be difficult, but not impossible, and when you face Thanos – and you  _must –_ it could save all of our lives."

Vision watched her quietly. She watched him back. Both of them knew she'd already won, so he did not feel the need to say so. Beside Sif, Coulson suddenly touched his earpiece, listening. He pulled back his sleeve to look at his watch. "Right," He said to whomever was on the other side of the radio. "Have FitzSimmons bring the bus back around – and please tell them the night-night gun will not be necessary this time." He stood, and Vision stood as well, sensing that their meeting was over. He glanced down at his baggy shirt and sweatpants and realized he would have to fall back asleep after this. He wasn't sure if he could overcome his whirring brain to manage it. He looked back up at his more snappily dressed companions as Coulson spoke.

"My team will get you home before the others wake up. Try to get some sleep. It's been an honor," Coulson extended his hand, and Vision shook it gratefully.

"The very same to you, Agent Coulson," he said.

"Please, call me Phil. With any luck, I'll see you around. And you'll be seeing a lot of Lady Sif, of course," He looked to Sif, who nodded at Vision. The synthezoid nodded back. "Best of luck to you both. Fury will be keeping an eye on the Avengers, and I'll keep an eye on your progress," He said to Vision. "In the meantime, don't mention me, forget that you know that I am alive, and have a good moving day."

"I don't suppose your 'bus' could deliver me there straightaway?" Asked Vision.

The jibe made Coulson smile. "I'm afraid not. FitzSimmons already knocked you out today, I'm not sure it would be a good idea to have them break into another one of Stark's facilities. Speaking of, they've just hacked back into Avengers tower and have only an hour window to get you back inside before Stark's firewall rewrites itself. Time to go."

* * *

Vision surprised himself by waking up the next morning.

In truth it wasn't the waking that surprised him; it was the fact that he'd had to have fallen asleep in order to now wake up, and last he'd checked, he was far too preoccupied to fall asleep after his clandestine abduction last night. And yet, the sun was in the east and Friday was telling him the time.

He had, apparently, awoken because Tony Stark was moving quickly down the hallway making a terrible racket and shouting, "Bring out yer dead! bring out yer dead!" which made no sense. A few doors down, a grumpy sounding Steve Rogers emerged from his room and said as such, to which Tony replied, "Oh my god, it's Monty Python, Rogers, you said you were with the times. Oh, whatever. Go put on your big boy pants and get your crap in the car. It's moving day!"

Ah, yes, that was today. Upish and Statish, as Tony had said.

* * *

After an hour or so of chaos, all the avengers and their personal effects (which was embarrassingly sparse, except in the case of Mr. Stark himself) were loaded onto the Quinjet and strapped into their seats. Natasha was piloting as usual, but she'd allowed Vision to play copilot (even if she didn't need one). He'd flown the jet plenty of times before – as JARVIS, of course, not as himself. Even though it was not quite the same, the displays, knobs, levers, and gauges were all familiar to him, programmed into his instincts like a second skin.

 _A recently blinded world class pilot,_ Sif's words appeared in his mind. Vision let his eyes drift shut, imagining he were flying the plane, mentally rehearsing all of things he needed to do to keep it aloft and headed straight on their path. For a brief moment, he thought he was doing rather well. Then, Natasha tilted the controls to turn sharply north. Vision's eyes jumped open and he realized that they were far lower in the sky than he'd been imagining. He sighed, disappointed in himself.

"You alright there, Red?" Natasha asked, not looking at him. He composed himself.

"As ever, Miss Romanoff," he replied quietly, heart still in his gut.

* * *

Tony swapped seats with Natasha about halfway through the flight (because he was bored, he said), and Vision had been listening to him chatter and banter with FRIDAY for nearly an hour. As JARVIS, he had sometimes wondered whether Tony meant any of the things he said to his AI assistant. Now, as a bystander, he realized that his instincts back then had been well-founded: Tony liked messing with him. And Friday as well, it seemed.

"Ah, there she is," Tony said as a large, white building appeared amid the green horizon. "Hello, beautiful. Friday, unlock the front door for us?"

" _Of course, boss. It looks like someone is waiting for you."_

"What?" Tony's smile disappeared and he glanced down at the computer display, bringing up security footage from the ground. "Who? It's not Fury, is it? That guy has  _got_ to work on his neighborly attitude."

" _It's not Director Fury, boss. My facial recognition does not have her on file."_

"Her?"

" _I believe so, boss."_

Tony pulled his phone out of his pocket. "JARVIS, take the wheel," He said out of habit. Vision took the controls, glancing at Tony as he tapped furiously at his phone and put it to his ear. Silence for a few beats, then,

"Who are you and what the hell are you doing on my porch?" There was a long pause, and Vision could just make out a feminine voice on the other end of the phone. Eventually, Stark said, "Oh. Well… okay." He actually did sound a touch contrite. He cleared his throat and recovered. "Don't get your alien germs all over everything. We're headed down right now."

As Vision lowered the Quinjet onto the landing pad, he could see where Lady Sif was waiting by the front door.

* * *

"Lady Sif of Asgard," Natasha said, following behind an annoyed Tony to meet their guest. She smiled and reached out a hand. "Finally get to meet you. Long trip?"

Sif nodded appraisingly. "Through the Bifrost the journey from Asgard to Midgard takes mere seconds," Said Sif seriously, not noticing how Natasha had to bite back a smile. "It as an honor to meet the Widow of Black," She shook Natasha's hand firmly. "I have heard tell of your fierceness in battle. I look forward to seeing proof of it." She gave a sly grin. As the others gathered, she turned her attention to Tony.

"Master Stark," She nodded to him. Tony glanced around her, as if looking for something.

"So Xena, are you here to sell cookies, or what?" He glanced around as if looking for someone. "Where's Hammertime?"

Sif frowned at him. Natasha leaned over to her. "He means Thor," She translated. Sif nodded, and looked back at Tony.

"Thor is unfortunately unable to return to Midgard at present. Asgard has been… a tumultuous place in recent days, at it was only after great effort that he was able to gather his war brothers together. They journey now across the nine realms in pursuit of Thanos – when last I saw their company, they were departing for Vanaheim. Heimdall watches over them." She paused gravely to remember them in her prayers. "Thor has sent me here as a messenger, and as an ally." She stood to attention and put her right fist firmly over her heart. "I am here to join your service, Master Stark, to protect your world, and prepare you all for the return of Thanos – whenever that may come." She glanced meaningfully at Vision.

Tony's eyebrows were up in his hairline because of her high-browed speech. "Well," He said, "is that all. I um… thanks." He noticed her staring, and looked back to Vision. "Introductions: First, this is Vision. He's a new addition. Maybe Thor mentioned him? He can lift the hammer, you know." Tony gave Vision a pat on the back. Sif took a breath and Vision knew what she would say: That oh, she  _did_ know him, because they'd been talking over email (or whatever other BS she and Coulson had contrived to cover their tracks) and that she had some rather interesting ideas for his training. Vision didn't know exactly why he didn't want them all to know about it when he said,

"It's a pleasure meeting you, Lady Sif," He smiled fakely and reached out a hand. "Thor has mentioned you in the past, it is nice to put a face to the name."

She frowned at him as she shook his hand. Still, she said nothing. "The pleasure is mine, Master Vision," She glared at him in confusion. Tony did not seem to notice.

"Right, you've just met Natasha. This is Sam – say hi, Sam – and Rhodey. Sorry,  _Colonel_ Rhodes, and Dr. Bruce Banner, aka the Hulk, and…" The rest of the introductions went on with little fuss, and Sif was welcomed into the newly-minted Avengers HQ as part of the crew.

Vision lost track of Sif over the course of the day. People were everywhere, buzzing here and there with crates and boxes. There were movers and scientists and even SHIELD agents buzzing about overseeing the assembly of Tony Stark's millions. Pepper was shouting orders to half a dozen men with boxes, and Dr. Helen Cho and Bruce were both mother-henning over their laboratories' reconstruction in the massive science wing of their facility. The others scattered around the building, finding somewhere to be useful or out of the way. Vision opted for the latter.

He found his bedroom just where Tony had said it would be. The walls were muted beige, a calming color that he had requested, and had simple furnishings as well as a bubbling water fountain in one corner. Someone had already delivered his wardrobe – with a few new expensive additions, he noticed, no doubt courtesy of Tony. As he approached the windows, the blinds lifted automatically and he could look out across the clear, green yard to the tightly guarded treeline beyond. A reflection appeared next to his in the window.

"Why did you act as though I were a stranger?" Sif asked, stepping quietly into the room. Vision watched her in the glass.

"I do not know," He admitted. "I felt… apprehensive." He meditated on this for a moment, wondering how he had ever started to allow human emotions to dictate his actions so brashly. "I apologize, it was wrong of me to deceive them." He turned to face her. "I suppose I feared that, should the others learn of your plans, they would express more expectations for me than are due. We still do not know if I am capable of what you wish."

Sif nodded, understanding. "A fair point." She glanced back at the door. Everyone was so busy, she knew neither of them would be missed until it was dinnertime, at least. "We will train in secret, until you feel comfortable letting the others know." Vision frowned at the idea, looking distraught. He still felt it was wrong. Sif intercepted his forthcoming protest: " _If_ this is going to work, you need to be focused and centered in your mind. If achieving that focus means keeping the other Avengers deceived about the exact nature of your training, then so be it." After a moment, Vision nodded. "Would you like to get started now?" Sif asked him. Vision took in deep breath and made himself be ready.

"Yes."

Sif shut the door and came closer to him. She pulled the blinds back down over the windows and found a spot of ground to sit comfortably. After Vision was seated across from her, he glanced up and saw that her face had transformed into an unsettling mix of eagerness and danger – a look with which her Asgardian trainees would have been familiar.

"Well then, Master Vision," She said once he was settled. "If I'm going to teach you how to use magic, I must start by asking what you already know."

"Nothing," he told her honestly. Sif seemed unsurprised.

"Very well. In that case, let us start at the beginning."

They had a long way to go.


End file.
